


Love and Chaos

by MegTheFireGoddess



Series: Copper and Shadow [4]
Category: Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-12-07 00:07:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 34,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18227255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MegTheFireGoddess/pseuds/MegTheFireGoddess
Summary: Detailing the time between Emperor Mage and Realm of the Gods.Daine and Numair deal with the fallout of their time in Carthak and learn to navigate the maze of being in love during the beginning of the Immortals War. The majority is from Numair's POV





	1. A Lie In A Word

**Author's Note:**

> This is a reposting of the story I had up a while ago but took down because the longer it sat there, the more I hated it. The story is essentially the same but the majority (save for one or two chapters) has been rewritten to be from Numair's POV.
> 
> I'm also (finally) finished with the actual re-write of ROTG and will be posting it shortly.
> 
> I would really like to get some honest feedback on this piece as I'm still not 100% happy with it. IDK why. Perhaps I'm just being overcritical of myself.

Numair had never hated a word before. He loved words; they were as much a part of him as his tawny skin. Yet the word "fine" had become associated with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, to the point that even thinking the word made him want to vomit.

When Daine gasped awake in the middle of the night, her coppery wild magic ripped him from sleep just in time to see her flee their cabin without so much as a robe to protect her from the winter chill.

Combing willowy fingers through shoulder-length inky tresses, Numair shrugged on a thick coat and took a wool blanket up the creaking stairs.

He knew he would find her standing at the bow, gulping open air as if starved for it. What he hadn’t expected was for ocean birds of all kinds to be perched on every available surface, watching her with blank eyes.

Trying not to startle her, he carefully draped the blanket around her shoulders, but as soon as the cloth touched her, the copper threads snapped like strained rope fibers. All the birds took to the air at once, fleeing the wild magic that reverberated painfully against Numair’s nerves.

It was in that moment Numair decided he had finally reached his tolerance of the word “fine”.

“Oh! Numair, it’s you. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” she tried to speak reassuringly but the tremor in her voice made it ring false, “You should go back to bed, I’ll just be a moment.”

“Right,” he replied sarcastically, “because sleep will come easily with the knowledge that you’re out here becoming hypothermic.”  
  
Her eyes dropped to her stocking feet, her toes curling away from the frost that permeated the deck, “I’m fine.”  
  
"Stop saying that," he told her harshly.  

His shadowy magic rose with his frustration, oozing from his skin to brush the aura of copper light that surrounded her like a barrier. Daine tried and failed to suppress a shiver as the mingling of their gifts sent thrills of electricity over her skin.

Misinterpreting her movement, Numair pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to compose himself, “Daine, the last time you lied to me this consistently was before you finally told me about what happened to your family. You’re not fine and pretending you are isn’t doing you any good.”  
  
Her chin rose but she was hiding behind stubbornness. Numair could see it in the way she stiffened her shoulders and pulled the blanket tighter around herself. More for protection than to stave off the chill.

Desperate to break through to her, he lifted a willowy hand to catch the curtain edge of her often wild curls and pushed them back from her face. “Please, Daine, let me try to help.”  
  
The cloud of her wordless admission floated around her, twisting in her hair and leaving bits of crystal amongst the wisps. “It’s not something you can fix. You can’t just make the memories go away. Only I can fight them by repeating the truth in my mind. I’m not in a cage, Kaddar let me out. I’m not a wolf; I’m a two-legger.” Her gaze met his and icy fingers rose to dance across his jagged cheekbone opposite where his palm lingered against her cheek, “You aren’t dead, it was just a copy.”  
  
Guilt twisted his lips as the self-admonishments threatened to fall from his tongue. He shouldn’t have let Ozorne execute his simulacrum, he should have found another way to escape the Emperor’s wrath. She had every right to be angry at him. It was only the way Daine snatched her hand away, pulling it back beneath the blanket like a turtle retreating into its shell, that kept the words at bay and allowed her to murmur an argument to his thoughts, “That isn’t why I ran out of the cabin. I just have to...escape sometimes. To know I can. Then I can remember all the good things instead.”  
  
Frowning, he looked out over the frozen ocean and considered what Daine was telling him. He couldn’t save her from her ghosts, it wasn’t possible. He should know that better than anyone considering his own time as the Emperor’s prisoner. The only way to make the nightmares fade was to drown them in a sea of happier times.

With this new mission in mind, he defaulted to comedy as only a former player could, “Well, you chose a strange place to run, especially while wearing nothing but a shirt. MY shirt.”  
  
The effect was instantaneous. Daine's shoulders lost their tension and she closed the distance between them to rest her forehead on his chest. “You don’t mind, do you? I like wearing your shirts.”  
  
“Of course I don’t mind,” he said, wrapping her in the warmth of his arms, “but, it does make for poor winter gear.”  
  
She nodded her agreement, something he felt more than saw as her button nose brushed the sensitive area in the center of his chest. The heat quickly swamped him but his logical mind soon reminded him that it was the wrong time to reset boundaries.  
  
“We should return to the spelled warmth of our cabin. You know how much I hate the cold.”  
  
Stepping out of his embrace, she smiled softly and gestured for him to lead the way. He did so, taking her hand into his and pulling her toward the stairs. Their digits wove together like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle despite their vastly different shapes, reminding Numair of what he had gained.  
  
And exactly what he had to lose.


	2. What Is Seen and Unseen

Pirate’s Swoop was always a strange feat of engineering. The castle, built among the cliffs of Tortall’s Western Shore, was as precarious as its name suggested. Its ocean-side defensive wall was created with the natural rise and fall of the rock and looked directly down upon the Emerald Ocean hundreds of feet below. A staircase, carved into the rock just outside the northern gate, led to a grotto-style port in which small naval vessels were docked.

At the top of the stone staircase, cut into the cliffside like a scar, stood a man and a woman of opposite but similar natures. Alanna’s shock of red hair was like a beacon, pulled loosely back from her rounded face and leaving her bright amethyst irises to flash in the mid-morning light. The man was tall, only slightly shorter than Numair, and thinly muscled in comparison to his wife.  George's shaggy blonde hair whipped in the harsh breeze, partially obscuring his observant green eyes.Everything about him, from his crooked nose to his unwavering smirk, spoke of a man who cared little for other's opinions while everything about Alanna spoke of a woman who took her honor a little too seriously. Yet, despite all their differences, there could be no doubt that they fit together. Anyone with eyes could see it.

It made Numair wonder what others thought of him and Daine.To an ordinary man, perhaps they had no business standing so close. After all, she was a common girl with hard blue-grey eyes that contrasted sharply with gently rounded features and he was a jewel-encrusted nobleman whose black irises were set into a tawny face as jagged as a mountain crag. A soldier, on the other hand, might recognize two people caught between survival and veteranization. The way Daine’s bow-shaped lips only slightly turned up at the corners would be a dead give away for a conflicted soul and the reluctance in Numair’s shoulders was the mark of a guilty conscience.

Imagining himself as just another bystander on the docks, Numair tried to observe them in an academic light. Would he see the coppery wild magic reaching out to every animal within range, pulling the seabirds closer like moths drawn to a flame, and wonder at the source of her power? Would he see his own sparkling black aura of power and feel fear strike at his heart? Would he observe the mingling of magic between them and think it dangerous?

Shaking the questions from his mind, Numair waited until the ship was moored before disembarking the ship to meet George and Alanna. The moment Numair and Daine stepped off the gangplank, Alanna strode forward to pull the young woman into a heartfelt embrace. The spring before the peace delegation had set sail for Carthak, Daine had equaled Alanna in height but, in a few months since, she had come to stand a quarter of a head taller. “Goddess bless, girl, it's good to see you safe.”

  
Daine pulled back to smile, “It's good to be home.”  
  
“I’m sure. From what I’ve heard, ya had yer fill of Carthaki games.” George tousled her already wild ash-brown curls, earning him an affectionate glare that made the darkness in Daine's eyes retreat ever-so-slightly.  
  
“More than my fill, that’s for sure.”  
  
“And what about you?” Alanna asked Numair, playfully punching him in the arm, “You get enough of Carthak?”  
  
The tall mage shrugged his thin shoulders, “I wouldn't mind going back someday. I'm quite excited to see what Kaddar will accomplish as the new Emperor.”  
  
George passed Numair a smirk that lacked the same vein of affection he had cast on the Daine, “Well, nex’ time ye go, try not ta start a revolt.”  
  
“No promises but, on that note,” Numair held his hand out Alanna, “I think this belongs to you, my lady.”  
  
She tossed him a peeved expression at his use of an honorific but it melted into a grin as Numair revealed a tiny silver ring adorned with a cloudy amethyst.  
  
“I’m glad you didn’t need to use it,” she told Numair, a sheepish note of relief in her voice as she returned the ring to her index finger. Alanna had given him the focus back in Carthak and to say he had been surprised was a supreme understatement. More than anyone, Alanna knew the dangers in allowing someone unrestricted access to her magic. It was a painful lesson courtesy of her twin brother who had died after an evil mage had slowly drained his gift from him.  
  
Ever observant, Numair lent Alanna a soft smile that spoke volumes about their shared bond of trust, “Me too.”  
  
For a long moment, a light shown through Alanna’s eyes and Numair felt the urge to avert his gaze. She looked at him like the brother she still missed. It made Numair feel both honored and a little sad because he could never be everything she wanted him to be. He was goofy and dramatic where her twin had been described as aloof and arrogant.  
  
“Is something wrong?” Daine asked, a hint of concern in her voice as the silence stretched.  
  
Alanna shook her head, rapidly blinking the glisten from her eyes, “I was just thinking that there is a little dragon that will be very happy to see you two.”  
  
Numair and Daine both grinned so widely it was ridiculous.  
  
“Where is she?” Daine asked, a breath of anticipation whispering through her words.  
  
“Thom’s been lookin’ afta ‘er,” replied George, turning around to lead the way back toward the castle, “And if I know me son, he’s in the library.”

Not for the first time, Numair was glad for his long stride as Daine was nearly jogging in her need to reach the library, surpassing George and bursting through the heavy oak door to a chorus of enthusiastic whistling. A small powder-blue dragon, the size of a large house cat, leaped from her perch on the desk to gallop across the floor on all fours.  
  
“Oh, Kit! I’ve missed you so much!” said Daine, dropping to her knees to cuddle the little immortal to her chest. The dragonet trilled a tune of “me too” and, for a long time, they were lost in their reunion, whispers and whistles trying to make up for months spent apart.  
  
While George and Alanna remained off to the side, Numair stood over the scene like a guardian, patiently waiting for Kitten to acknowledge him. When she did, it was with a loud trill as she nearly flew from Daine’s embrace to land in his lanky arms.  
  
“I told you we’d see you again soon, didn't I?” he chuckled.  
  
Kitten nodded and stretched up to nuzzle his cheek with her slender snout. Daine got to her feet to join them, setting one hand on Numair’s arm and the other gently stroking Kitten’s infantile wings. “I don’t think she doubted you.”

Smiling at Daine, he put on a falsely arrogant tone, “Why would she? Kitten’s far too intelligent to question my abilities.”

Daine rolled her eyes, “Whatever you say, silly man.”

A young boy bounced forward to bathe Numair in the light of admiration. Thom had always been an exceptionally gifted child so Numair had taken it upon himself to challenge the boy with new subjects when the other tutors had fallen short. Eternally grateful, the boy had taken to calling him “Uncle”, something that still made Numair slightly uncomfortable.

“Kitten and I were just reading about the great temples,” Thom said, seeking approval.  
  
Kitten whistled confirmation and jumped down from Numair’s arms to race back to the desk. There were scratch marks in the varnish, showing just how many times the dragonet had scurried up the surface.  
  
Thom followed close behind, speaking enthusiastically as he absently combed his silky red hair back from his forehead, “She said she only saw the ones at the palace, so I was wondering if the arms the Great Statue of the Goddess had been replaced?”

Numair shrugged, “Ozorne outlawed donations to the temples so, while I don’t know for certain, I would consider it extremely unlikely.”  
  
Though Kitten couldn’t speak, no one doubted that Thom had learned a lot from her. All Kitten had to do was sit on her haunches and make a gesture to tell everyone that the statue looked better without arms. As evidence, she pointed to an ink sketch of the figure, the Goddess’ arms there on one side of the page and gone on the next.

“I’m not sure about that,” said Daine, grimacing, “I think she looks sad without arms.”

Frowning, Thom narrowed his eyes on the page, “I don’t understand. Why would the Emperor-”

George cut off the complicated question before Thom could finish vocalizing it. Numair couldn’t blame him. There was not much logic to be had from Ozorne’s disrespect toward the gods and the topic of insanity was not one a nine-year-old should be delving into. “‘Mair ‘n Daine had a long journey so we’d best let ‘em get settled in ‘fore king ‘n company turn de castle upside down.”  
  
“The King is coming here?” asked Daine, a hint of nervousness in her voice.  
  
George tilted his head to give Daine a smirk, “Ya destroyed de Carthaks’ palace ‘n still got dat peace treaty signed. Ta say Jon’s got questions is an understatement. I’ve got questions and I’ve heard tale from spies who were dere!”  
  
A blush touched her cheeks, “I s‘pose it’s kinda confusing from the outside.”  
  
“True but there is nothing to say that couldn’t be put in a letter,” Numair said archly.  
  
Alanna scowled, “We serve the realm, Numair, that hasn't changed just because Carthak’s no longer a threat.”  
  
He was about to argue when Daine placed a gentle hand on his arm. “They aren’t just coming to ask questions, it’s Midwinter Eve, and didn’t you say that holidays are s’posed to be spent with friends?”  
  
Numair folded like a card tower, sighing and muttering, “You both make good points.”  
  
“Who knew you could see sense?” Alanna said, crossing her arms as she leaned forward to grin at Daine knowingly, “The man argues with falling snow! How do you manage to get a word in nevertheless make him listen?”  
  
Shrugging, Daine let the corner of her mouth twitch upward, nearly breaking her calm facade, “No one can make Numair see sense ‘cept Numair.”  
  
“That is completely inaccurate. I am willing to concede any well-made point.”  
  
Daine mockingly blocked her mouth from his view, stage-whispering, “That’s Numair speak for ‘Daine’s right’.”  
  
“I would argue,” said Numair, quickly replacing his jester’s frown with an equally comical smile, “though I suspect you would simply turn my own words against me, so what would be the point?”  
  
“There ain’t one,” Daine replied with a smirk.  
  
George threw back his head and let out a boisterous laugh, “I’d best show y’all to yer room before she gets it in ‘er head ta give away all yer secrets.”  
  
“And we don't want that,” said Alanna, waving them toward the door.  
  
Daine scooped Kitten into her arms and the newly-reunited family followed a still-chuckling George from the room.


	3. An Arrow Through The Heart

Numair had seen the royal party’s progress down the road long before Daine had pointed them out. The purple pennants flapping in the harsh winds were somewhat hard to miss even through the thick trees.  
  
The procession was perfectly organized, five pairs of the King’s Own knights keeping an equal distance from each other. Their road-tarnished plate armor still managed to shine in the grey daylight, pulling awe from the village children who gathered to watch with gaping jaws.  
  
King Jonathan rode his large morgan warhorse in the center of the train, side-by-side with his Queen’s energetic desert mare. Despite the animal’s apparent need to pick up the pace, only to find itself blocked by the short-legged ponies the prince and princess rode, the queen kept the horse well in hand with the practiced ease of a woman who had practically been born in the saddle.  
  
Numair had to admit that the royal family struck a pleasant sight. They all had pitch-black hair, Queen Thayet and her son, Roald, sharing the thicker tresses of the K’miri while Jonathan and the princess shared the silky strands famous in the Conte line. Put that together with Thayet’s delicate features, which held a beauty to rival few others, and Jonathan's chiseled jawline, the entire family was something out of a fairy tale where the mediocre could not exist.  
  
The sound of trumpet blasts announcing the royal party through the gates finally pulled Daine and Numair from their position on the forest-side wall. Following the stone staircase, they emerged just outside the stable. From the way Jonathan’s eyes immediately fell on them, the king’s questions would not wait until everyone had settled. Thankfully, Princess Kalasin leaped from her saddle, her face lighting like a glowstone.

  
“Numair!” she exclaimed, nearly making the tall man’s knee bend backward as she crashed into his leg.  
  
Daine was similarly tackled as Roald, who had dismount in much the same way his sister had, threw his arms around her middle. “You’re here!”  
  
“I hate to think how your father would have reacted had we not been,” said Numair under his breath. His comment earned him a sideways glare from Daine who quickly covered her ire with a grin when the children looked up at them.  
  
“Midwinter will be so much fun with you both here! Are you going to juggle this year?” Kalasin asked Numair, nearly vibrating in anticipation.  
  
“Of course,” he replied with a grin, “I owe you and your brother a show after I missed Samhain.”  
  
“Yay!” The eleven-year-old girl pranced away, the wind pulling the hair from her pins as she danced around merrily. Kitten wove in and out of her legs, turning the joyous movements into a game.  
  
“Do Thom and the twins know?” Roald asked, his brown eyes over-bright as he craned his neck to look up at Numair.  
  
The mage merely shrugged and the boy and girl both gasped, “We have to tell them!”  
  
On thin but swift legs, Roald and Kalasin flew from the yard like birds through a forest with Kitten hot on their heels.  
  
Expertly dodging the children, Alanna and George stepped into the yard with bravado. Thumbs hooked in her waist belt, Alanna took up ranks beside Daine and Numair just as Tkaa dropped his invisibility spell and emerge from amidst the royal entourage.  
  
The basilisk's milky eyes greeted the mage and his former student without a word, but silence was not the immortal’s forte. Bowing formally, if not awkwardly given the pot belly affixed in the middle of his reptilian body and the long tail he carried like the train of a gown, he greeted them in hissing common, “Master Numair, Daine. It is wonderful to see you both again.”  
  
Numair bowed in return while Daine smiled up at Tkaa with glowing affection, “Sorry, you just missed Kitten. She ran off with the other children.”  
  
“I shall go search her out,” he replied with an expression that would have been menacing if they didn’t know it for a smile, “She and I have lessons planned for this winter.”  
  
Hostlers came to take King Jonathan’s reins, holding the destrier still while he dismounted. Once his feet touched the ground, his midnight-blue eyes flicked between the sword strapped to Alanna’s hip and the bow and quiver strung across Daine’s back.  
  
“You two expecting trouble?”  
  
The pasted-on smile Daine turned on the king didn’t make him less suspicious; she was far too honest to pull off false-reassurance. “It doesn’t hurt to be ready, your majesty, you never know when somethin’ might come up.”  
  
George stepped forward, putting on an air of mock-hurt, “I wouldn’t read too much into it, mate. Alanna strapped ‘ers ta her hip de moment she touched Tortallan sands. Went for it ‘fore even comin’ to see her lovin’ husband.”  
  
Coming up beside her husband, Thayet smiled in that captivating way that made even the most steadfast man take note, “You know who you married.”  
  
“An' I wouldn’t want no one else,” George declared, taking Alanna’s hand and bringing it to his lips with a mischievous glint in his eye.  
  
“You’re hopeless,” Alanna said, playfully snatching her hand from him. Turning back to a smirking Jonathan, she asked him, “Was the road kind?”  
  
“To be honest, I feel more relaxed than I have in months. It’s nice to get away from the capital for a while.”  
  
“And now you know why Numair and I leave every chance we get,” said Alanna with a grin in the mage’s direction.  
  
“That was supposed to be a secret!” Numair joked.  
  
Jonathan chuckled even as his tone turned diplomatic, “It wasn’t much of a secret. The real secret appears to be what happened in Carthak.”  
  
Few missed the way Thayet glared at the king but he took it upon himself to ignore her silent advice.  
  
Daine ducked her head but Numair met the King’s questioning gaze with a level glare. “We deposed an evil Emperor and assured an alliance with Carthak. What else is there to know?”  
  
“A great deal,” Jonathan replied with a frown.  
  
“I’ll show myself to the children’s playroom,” Thayet said pointedly, letting Jonathan know in no small way that she wanted no part in what was about to occur. Ignoring her a second time, the king nodded absently.  
  
George and Numair seemed to be the only ones who understood the fury in the way the queen marched toward the castle and it made Numair just that much more apprehensive. Seeing as George’s was Tortall’s spymaster, his understanding meant something important had happened. Numair passed him a suspicious look but George only replied with a vague, “Best talk of it inside.”  
  
Alanna’s study was simple but comfortable, a large desk surrounded by many upholstered reading chairs that followed no particular color scheme.  
  
Numair took a seat in his favored burgundy chair set against the far wall while Daine perched on the arm. George sat near the fire but Alanna remained standing, folding her arms and leaning against the wall beside the door. Jonathan, ever flaunting convention, leaned against the desk and braced his palms against the lacquered edge.

His gaze fell on Numair, taking on a glint of command even as he spoke in a friendly tone, “You seem reluctant to talk about what happened. Perhaps it would be best to start with the question of why.” 

“Forgive me, your majesty, but I don’t see the point in recounting events that, as far as I can tell, have little bearing on the present,” replied Numair in an overly formal tone.  
  
“Especially when the recounting of such events is painful?” Jonathan said evenly though not unkindly.  
  
“It’s alright, your majesty. Ask what you gotta ask. We’ll try to answer as best we can.”  
  
In shooting Daine a narrow expression, Numair missed the questioning look the king cast on Alanna when Daine smiled back reassuringly. The female knight subtly shook her head, warning Jonathan against voicing the question that sprang to his lips in favor of a less personal one. “Then I suppose there is only one thing I would like explained, in as much detail as you can. What happened to Ozorne?”  
  
Numair let out a long breath, deflating under Daine’s pleading gaze, “Through the manipulations of the stormwing Rikash Moonsword, Ozorne was given a feather with the promise that it would save him if he ever found himself in trouble. Rather than abdicate his throne, as requested, he used the feather and was turned into a stormwing himself.”  
  
“So he’s not dead?” asked George but his tone made the question mostly rhetorical.  
  
Daine’s shrug was misleading next to the growl beneath her words, “Likely is by now. Queen Barzha wasn’t happy about being his prisoner. Rikash promised Ozorne would be punished and I’ve never known him not to keep his word.”  
  
“So, if he’s still alive, he’s technically still the Emperor?” asked Jonathan, his voice pitched with concern.  
  
Numair shook his head, “No. According to Stormwing law, once he became one of them, he lost all rights to mortal power. He doesn’t even have his gift anymore.”  
  
“The people of Carthak might not see it that way,” said Jonathan quietly and focused his gaze on George, all-but verifying Numair’s suspicions, “A secondary revolt has ignited in Carthak. It seems that the slaves have somehow gained arms.”  
  
“De weapons were dropped in da desert by a stormwing wit de Emperor’s face.”

“Does Kaddar know?” Numair’s question came out monotonous even as his heart began to race.  
  
“No’ yet but he will,” George replied.  
  
“Good,” said Numair distantly and that seemed to be the final straw for Daine.  
  
“No, he can’t still be alive. Right?”  
  
When Numair averted his eyes, Daine turned her disbelieving gaze on every other person in the room one-by-one. No one could give her the reassurance she needed without lying.  
  
Shooting to her feet, she fled the room faster than Numair could think to stop her. He immediately stood to go after her but Alanna stepped into his path. “Let her go. She just needs some time.”  
  
“If you think that is what she needs, you don’t know her at all,” Numair replied, his voice caught between anger and pain, “Out of my way, Alanna. Before someone does something they’ll regret.” His lack of specificity spoke volumes and the mighty shadow that surrounded him found Alanna instinctively stepping aside.  
  
Outside the castle, everything from seahawks to sparrows flew in the same direction, circling above the training yard to provide Numair with Daine’s exact location.  
  
She was standing across from a wood and burlap target made to look like a soldier in rusted armor. Her bow was raised, an arrow pointed at the target. When she loosed, the steel tip found the tiny space between the breast and shoulder plates.  
  
“I should have killed him while I had the chance,” she said as she slid another arrow from her quiver and nocked it.  
  
“I’m glad you didn’t.”  
  
Her head spun in Numair’s direction so quickly it was unnatural but the arrow she released in her anger went right through the chest piece. “How can you say that?”  
  
Reaching over, he urged her bow arm down with a gentle touch. “Because you would have been doing it for the wrong reasons and unable to forgive yourself afterward.”  
  
“I’ve killed before,” she told him, pointedly yanking her arm away and redrawing, “Or did you forgot the bandits that killed Ma and Granda? I killed ‘em and I don’t feel bad for it. They deserved it.”  
  
He glared at her, barely managing not to flinch as yet another arrow became embedded in the target, “That isn’t true.”  
  
“How would you know?” she replied, her face darkening as she nocked and drew with mechanical movements, “You weren’t there.”  
  
“No, I wasn’t, but I distinctly remember that you lied rather than admit you were afraid of doing it again.”  
  
His words finally seeped through her cold exterior and into her stubborn mind, thawing her until she could feel the fear she denied. She relaxed the bowstring, pointing the arrow at the ground as her head fell forward. “I’m tired of being afraid.”  
  
“So am I,” he admitted.  
  
“Then what do we do?”  
  
For a long moment, Numair left the question to hang in the air between them until he found the courage to speak. “We face it.”  
  
“You make it sound easy.”  
  
He sighed, “It won’t be but I don’t see an alternative.”  
  
“You’re right,” she agreed, her voice becoming determined as she raised her bow once more, “but this time I’m gonna end him. Once and for all.”  
  
The arrow she loosed went right through the target’s head, the pointed tip visible through the other side. Numair couldn’t find the will to argue with her but he made a silent promise to himself. He would never let Ozorne hurt her again.


	4. Shattered Glass

On the morning of the Midwinter Solstice, Numair and Daine bolted upright at the same time.

They strained to hear something that was not a sound, sweat beading on their flesh and tremors shivering down their spines. Drops of jewel-toned magic fell around them like glittering rain to settle on their skin, evaporating into their pores and slithering through their veins to touch their hearts.

Called by the strange power, Daine’s coppery wild magic rose from her like a blaze catching from embers while Numair’s shadowy gift expanded outward like a broadening view of the night sky. In the space between them, the two magics melted together to become an entity of sparkling bronze and tendrils of their combined power twisted outward, traveling on the conductive road of raining ancient power to touch every person with even a cursory connection to the natural world.

King Jonathan stood up so quickly that his heavy chair was knocked to the floor, his hands gripping the edge of a desk so tightly his knuckles turned white. The Horse Mistress Onua leaped from her dawn bath and let out a K’miri war cry, called to battle even as water dripped from her weathered skin and greying hair. Lindhall Reed, a professor at the University in Carthak, pressed his hand to his racing heart and gasped, “Arram.” Stefan, the chief hostler at the palace, fell from his loft-bed and into a pile of hay. He lifted his head and stared into the distance with a confused frown, bits of straw still adorning his blonde hair.

The horses Stefan cared for let out frightful neighs and, w ithin the walls of Pirate’s Swoop, cats hissed at ghosts, rat-catching dogs growled at shadows, and mice bolted into their holes. 

Outside, the trees raised their roots from the ground, frozen waters thawed, and the air turned stagnant.

As if tied to the same puppet master by invisible strings, Daine and Numair lifted their hands to their chests in perfect sync. Grasping at their hearts despite the barriers of sternum and skin, they took in the same sharp breath that burned in their stoney lungs. Just as they were sure that the torture would never end, silver magic rose from the ether to surround them in a protective barrier, severing their connection to the world. Those affected by the display of power cried out in a sudden sense of loss.  
  
Hearts fluttering like hummingbird wings, blue-grey eyes met inky black irises in shared fear.  
  
“Numair, is it-?”  
  
“The barrier between the mortal and divine realms- it’s gone. The immortals have been unleashed.”  
  
They both closed their eyes against the realization that pressed on them like a boulder. Chaos had descended in its purest form, brought forth on the backs of monsters from ancient myth. In retrospect, it was almost inevitable.  
  
A shrill and continuous whistle dispelled the silver magic that surrounded them, tearing them from their seclusion.  
  
Kitten was perched on her hind legs at the end of the bed, staring out the open window with slit-pupil eyes and filling the room with head-splitting sound.  
  
“Kitten, hush!” Daine said a little too sharply, rendering the dragonet silent.  
  
Numair’s mind cataloged information faster than he could truly understand it; the greying light of early dawn filtering across the room that was familiar but changed, the smell of copper, and the sound of a fist against wood.  
  
With fluid movements that should have been impossible for his gangly limbs, Numair stood and went to answer the door. Jeremi, a squire with shaggy auburn hair, stood in the threshold, wide-eyed and panting. “Master Numair! The King has called for you. And Miss Daine is needed to support the archers!”  
  
“What is it?” Daine called from behind Numair, already removing his shirt and pulling on her clothes with frenzied fingers.  
  
“Some kind of flying snake-things,” Jeremi replied, his fear making the words tremble.  
  
“Wyverns,” Numair let out a defeated breath, “Tell the king I’ll be there soon.”  
  
The squire’s head bobbed and he turned to race back down the corridor.  
  
Closing the door, Numair found Daine strapping on her arm guards and followed her lead, dressing in his simple shirt, trousers, and magely black robe before pulling his shoulder-length curly, black hair into a horsetail.  
  
“Who’s taking Kitten?” she asked as she finished tucking away the straps of her right bracer.  
  
The dragonet didn’t give Numair the chance to answer, leaping from the bed and running toward Daine. “Apparently, you.”  
  
Daine nodded and knelt to look Kitten in the eye, “Use the fire whistle first. You know how much I don’t like the stone-whistle.”  
  
Kitten rolled her eyes, believing Daine’s dislike of the spell the basilisk Tkaa had taught her was unfounded.  
  
“You had best listen to your mother, little one,” said Numair, his voice filled with warning, “That spell is a last resort at best.”  
  
Kitten nodded once more, her eyes downcast in apology.  
  
Unable to stand the sight, Numair reached down and petted her scaly head, “Thank you, sweetling.”  
  
Daine sighed in exasperation but ultimately postponed the well-worn argument about spoiling Kitten for a time when they weren’t headed off to battle. Numair was glad for it as it gave him the opportunity to speak a secondary warning to Daine, “You remember how wyverns attack?”  
  
Daine nodded as she strapped her quiver across her torso, “They breathe poison gas. I’ll make sure everyone else knows too.”  
  
“Good,” he replied before pulling her into his arms and resting his forehead against hers, “Be careful, magelet.”  
  
“You too,” she replied, her tone matching his.  
  
They didn’t bother speaking empty platitudes; those words were for other people. Instead, they kissed deeply and passionately before breaking away and rushing out the door.

As they separated, so did their magics. In the wake of a morning they would never forget, their individual gifts had subtly changed. Copper sparkles danced across Numair’s gift like sunlight across a black river and Daine’s wild magic glittered with silver stars.

Numair took the leftmost stairwell down to the main hall, hesitating in the threshold at the scene he found there.

The king paced before a table with an unsheathed sword laying on it. Every pass, his blue eyes flicked to the weapon before he ultimately collapsed in a chair and let out a defeated sigh. Memory was fickle though as he was soon pulled from his seat and back into the rhythmic walk of impotence.

Reining in his personal battle with duty, Numair schooled his features into a calm mask before entering the hall.

“You summoned me, your majesty?” he asked, coming to a stop opposite the king.  
  
“I did,” replied the king, stopping his pacing to scratch at his trimmed black beard, “Immortals flooded in the moment the barrier fell, so it’s possible the wyverns aren’t the last of it. Alanna and I will help you shield the castle if it comes to that so that Daine is free to sense incoming immortals or help the archers.”  
  
Numair nodded, “A sound strategy. Meanwhile-”  
  
The king’s narrowed eyes cut him off, “There is no ‘meanwhile’. A messenger will come for us if we’re needed.”  
  
The entire room seemed to fill with electricity as Numair passed his regent a cold glare, “Daine might be able to drive the immortals away.”  
  
“If that’s true, she can do so without you watching over her,” the king replied, his returning glare informing the mage that his attempt at returning to Daine’s side was obvious. “She is perfectly capable of doing so on her own.”  
  
Fists clenched, Numair’s voice went low and his very being seemed to vibrate with barely-contained power. “I am well aware of her capabilities but you can’t expect me to remain here while she and Kitten are up on the walls.”  
  
“I can, and I do. For the good of everyone, you will remain here. That is my order, Numair.”  
  
“Orders now, is it?” the mage replied in a deathly tone, “Fine, but if Daine’s magic calls to mine not even the threat of treason will stop me from going to her.”  
  
Before the king could argue, Alanna emerged from a side door looking like the embodiment of a hurricane dressed in plated armor. “Numair, get to the wall. Right now.”  
  
“I just said-” An amethyst glare stopped the king’s words before they could continue through his lips.

“The battle is over, Jon. The enemy has fled.”  
  
“How?” he asked, his jaw falling open. Numair’s would have done the same but he was still too angry to feel any shock.  
  
The lady-knight glanced at Numair, sadness filling her round features and backlighting her eyes, “Kitten.”  
  
All the warmth was drained from the room as Numair’s normally swarthy face became pale. He spun on his heel to sprint for the battlements, his black robe billowing out behind him like the wings of a great heron.

Cresting the walls surrounding Pirate’s Swoop was like stepping into the realms of chaos itself. An array of archers rubbed their eyes as the yellow signs of toxin crawled across their flesh. Right on Numair’s heels, Alanna quickly pushed past him to join the too-few healers in trying to arrest the effects of the mysterious poison but many were left to seize as their nervous systems were targeted mercilessly. The lucky few who had escaped the effects were left to hold their comrades’ heads so that they wouldn’t smash their skulls against the already red-streaked stones.

  
Numair barely saw any of it, becoming frozen half-way down the walkway. Tension was visible in the stillness of his limbs and the rigidity of his spine as gaze focused on the heap of scales sprawled across the stones. Seeing the ordinarily energetic and animated dragonet in such a way was enough to make his heart stop but more than that was the devastated look on Daine’s face. She held her hands over Kitten’s body, her fingers stiff as if she were pressing them against glass. Tears fell from her blue-grey eyes while she gritted her teeth in the exertion of will. Her Wild Magic flowed freely, bathing Numair in the mingling of desperation and fear.  
  
Locking out her panic, Numair sequestered himself in the haven of logic. He stepped forward tentatively and fell to his knees opposite Daine, watching her with wide eyes that reflected the pain of the scene like pools of ink.  
  
The basilisk Tkaa stood nearby, watching the scene through slit-pupils. The hissing note to his voice was cool despite the discord that surrounded him. “It is good you are here, Master Numair. Daine does not seem to understand. Skysong will be alright, she only exhausted herself."  
  
“Tell me what happened,” Numair said, his calm voice belying the deep frown that twisted his full mouth as he searched the dragonet’s body with eyes that sparkled.  
  
“After the wyverns breathed their poison on the archers, Skysong commanded them to leave. They fought her but once she put her magic behind it, the wyverns could no longer resist the command of a dragon.” As Skysong’s mentor, Tkaa was proud and expected Daine and Numair to be as well but that was like asking a wild animal to be proud of its cage.  
  
Numair nodded his understanding costively and took Daine’s hands, his long fingers enveloping her smaller digits. The touch seemed to break her from whatever trance she was in and she blinked until she could focus on the man before her. “Numair! I- I- Kitten she- she just fell! I- I don’t know what-”  
  
“Sssshhhh, magelet, listen. She’ll be fine. She just needs to rest,” the softly spoken words had an immediate effect as she took a deep and steadying breath.  
  
“We should take her back to our room,” Numair told her, his expression becoming stormy even as his tone remained entirely academic.  
  
Nodding, Daine took her hands from his and carefully lifted the little dragon from the stone. Unfolding into his full height, the mage took on the presence of a godly idol as he helped the young woman stand and began steering her through the remnants of the battle.

In their wake, Alanna took her hands from the young man she had been trying to save. He had succumbed to the toxin, laying as a jaundiced corpse before the fearsome-looking knight. With tears glistening in her eyes, she pinned the king with a glare, “I told you that keeping Numair from the battle was a bad idea.”  
  
Jonathan couldn’t meet her gaze, his tone just as distant as Numair’s had been, “What if it wasn’t just the wyverns? What if something worse had attacked? No one but Numair can cast a shield around the whole fortress. I couldn’t let him drain his gift fighting a few flying snakes.”  
  
She gestured to the pain that surrounded them. “Look what a few flying snakes did. This is only the beginning, Jon.”  
  
Silence settled like dusk as the king and his champion realized just how much danger their kingdom was in.  
  
“You’re right,” Jonathan replied after a long moment.  
  
Turning from the scene, he started down the same path Numair and Daine had taken, his shoulders burdened by the souls of those he had failed to protect.


	5. For Luck

“I should have been there. Damn the king’s orders. If they attack again I’m going to burn every last one of those creatures to ash.”

“I doubt your being there would have mattered,” said Daine, her grey-blue eyes following Numair’s path as he paced back and forth across the room. The shadow around him hadn’t dissipated since the wyvern attack and it took the majority of his self-control to keep their rooms intact. To say he was angry was a grand understatement but more than that he felt useless.

Kitten lay on their bed, curled into a tight ball and shivering in a restless sleep. Her color was slowly becoming paler, as if she were becoming a ghost. Daine’s copper-wrapped hand was trembling as she attempted to soothe the small dragon, trying to help Kitten with a bit of healing wild magic. She was partially successful, a bit of Kitten’s natural blue color returning.

Shoulders falling impotently, Daine said, “Kitten was just as likely to let those wyverns hurt someone as you or I would. I should have made her go with you instead.”

Her words were so guilt-ridden that Numair stopped mid-stride. Sighing heavily and doing his best to calm himself, he spoke in a soft tone as he laid his hand on Daine’s shoulder. She reached up and wove her fingers through his, uniting them in their fears.

“Do not worry,” said Tkaa, who was standing beside the open window watching the snowflakes fall and melt as soon as they touched down on the frosted world, “As I said before, she will be fine when she wakes.”

“Tkaa’s right,” Numair said, squeezing Daine’s hand in an offer of confidence that he couldn’t feel himself, “She is strong. It will take a lot more than this to take her from us.”

Daine returned the gesture, “I know. I just- I hate to see her like this.”

“I know.”

A soft knock obliterated the moment, bringing Numair’s anger back to the forefront and his shadowy magic to his palms. Daine’s reactive power placated it in the way only she could, gently confining his gift to his skin.

“Come in,” Numair called harshly, causing sweat to dew on Jeremi’s brow as he stuck his head through a small opening.

“Uh, Master Salmalin, Miss Daine, the King would like to speak with you.”

Numair scowled at the squire, “He’d better be summoning us to apologize. Otherwise, you can tell him to go hang.”

“Numair!” Daine hissed, “You know you don’t mean that.”

“You weren’t there,” he told her heatedly, “Ordering me around like some-”

“He’s the king,” she said, putting every bit of her infamous stubbornness behind the interruption, “So you'd best speak to him, not put poor Jeremi in the middle.”

Kitten twisted, letting out a murmured cry from where she rested on the bed in a tight coil. Jeremi was instantly forgotten as Daine and Numair looked down at her anxiously. The thin mage’s demeanor softened as he leaned down to run a gentle hand down the dragonet’s back. Kitten’s muscles didn’t relax even slightly but she let out a soft chirp of appreciation, letting Numair know that, while he did not possess Daine’s healing ability, she still needed his comfort.

Daine turned to the squire and spoke in an overly kind voice, “You can wait in the hall; we’ll be there soon.”

Jeremi instantly went pale and ducked out the door when Numair’s glare followed her line of sight. Once the squire was gone, the anger drained from Numair’s limbs, “I can barely keep my magic contained as it is so being in the king’s presence might be ill-advised.”

Daine could never be accused of being condescending but there was no other way to describe the way she spoke, “He’s the king, not a god. He didn’t know how things would turn out any more than we did. You should at least hear him out.”

“I hate how pragmatic you are,” his grimace was audible even as the corner of his mouth twitched upward.

“No you don’t.”

With a player’s sigh, he admitted, “No, I don’t. I love it,” before looking down at Kitten, “One of us really should stay with her, though.”

“I will watch over Skysong,” said Tkaa, moving away from the window to stand beside the bed like a guardian. He might have seemed less concerned than Daine and Numair but there was no doubt that he cared deeply for the little dragon.

Kissing her hand, Daine stood so she could transfer it to the basilisk's pebbled scales when he ducked to give her access to his cheek. “Thanks, Tkaa, Kitten’s fair lucky to have you.”

Tkaa smiled his stone-grinding smile though it somehow looked grandfatherly beneath his profoundly aged gaze, “No gratitude is required.”

“Perhaps not,” said Numair, bowing his head toward the basilisk respectfully, “but we are grateful that you chose to become Skysong’s mentor.”

Looking embarrassed by Numair’s words, Tkaa bowed his head in return, “Mentor is meant to be a thankless position but it has its own rewards.”

“Very true,” Numair agreed, glancing at his own former student fondly.

Daine petted Kitten one last time before taking Numair’s hand and pulling him toward the door, “Come on, silly man, the sooner we go, the sooner we can come back.”

Opening, the door she stopped midstep when she found a statue waiting for her on the other side of the threshold. “Gods be good, Numair, look what you’ve done to the poor lad! You’ve done scared him silly with your scowling!”

Seeing the young squire frozen at attention, Numair felt more than a little foolish. “My apologies, young man. I do not mean to make you a proxy for my residual anger toward the king.”

Daine rolled her eyes, “What he’s trying to say is he’s sorry but the dolt can’t say it like a NORMAL person.”

The squire’s mouth opened and closed several times before he finally found the right words to speak amidst a wobbly bow, “Um, it’s fine, sir and uh, miss. Please, let me escort you to the courtyard.”

“As you please,” said Numair, gesturing down the hall with an attempt at a kind smile.

Forcing shock-stiffened limbs to become pliant, Jeremi led them through the palace but he kept glancing back as if trying to puzzle out some particularly pressing problem.

As they entered Alanna’s office, Numair had to clench his teeth to keep his magic from reacting to being in the king’s presence but Daine’s proximity was a calming factor. As soon as she felt his gift begin to slip his control, she moved a little closer to him until their arms barely touched.

Standing behind the desk, Jonathan let his guilt pull down his shoulders as he addressed them, “How is Kitten?”

“Tired but she’ll be alright,” said Daine but it was apparent from her tone that she didn’t fully believe the words she had spoken. Trying to set her at ease, Numair took her hand.

“Thank the gods,” said the king, relief apparent in the breathy way he spoke.

“If the gods were just, Kitten would have never been in that position to begin with,” said Numair coldly, unable to fully control his temper.

“Yes, but not all the blame can be laid at the gods’ feet. Alanna was quick to inform me that I owe you an apology,” replied the king, looking toward the ground, “I should not have spoken the way I did. It was not the way someone speaks to a friend.”

Daine nudged Numair with her elbow, urging him to remember her words. Still, he grumbled in a way that couldn’t be considered proper. “I suppose I should apologize as well. I was not listening to your potentially valid reasons.”

“Then let’s call these lessons learned, alright?” Jonathan held out his hand and Numair shook it, everything between the two men mostly forgiven.

“Agreed. Now, why don’t you tell us why we were summoned. I don’t think it was simply to apologize. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be glancing at that missive so frequently.”

Jonathan sighed and retrieved the indicated piece of parchment to hold it up for the mages, “This arrived by bird an hour ago. Ogres crossed over and attacked Dunlath. One of the outlying villages was burned to the ground.”

“Gods,” Daine whispered, squeezing Numair’s hand in a request for support. He gave it readily.

“Thankfully, no one was killed and the Dunlath giants drove the ogres into the mountains. The situation is contained but they could use our help.”

“In that case, we’ll leave as soon as Kitten’s awake,” Numair said, his voice heavier than it had been before as he glanced toward Daine in concern. She had many she cared about in Dunlath, the most important being the wolf pack that had protected her in the aftermath of her mother and grandfather’s deaths. Still, the thought of leaving Kitten behind, still sick, was unthinkable to both of them. In a decision that would have been impossible for Daine, Numair took the burden, and therefore the consequences, onto himself.

The king seemed to understand, bowing his head slightly in support of Numair’s choice, “That will give the Fifth Rider Group time to reach the King’s Road. Then you can meet up with them and journey to Dunlath together.”

Daine and Numair nodded. They could at least take comfort in the fact that they would be traveling with friends. Evin had been promoted to Captain of the Fifth Rider Group the previous spring. It meant some awkwardness, considering Daine and Evin’s past romantic relationship, but they knew they could trust the young man with their lives.

“For what it's worth,” said the king, trying to inject some hope into the situation, “Happy Midwinter. Perhaps you two have earned some luck for the next year?”

Numair reluctantly smiled but it was more for Daine’s benefit than a legitimate feeling of optimism, “Perhaps.”

Turning together, Daine and Numair started back toward their room.

In the hall outside the study, Daine glanced at Numair out of the corner of her eye. “You know, I’d almost forgotten today was the solstice.”

“It’s not like we were afforded much time to think about it,” Numair replied gruffly, “seeing as those wyverns attacked at gods cursed dawn.”

Daine pulled him to a stop, “True but I think we should kiss for luck. We’ll need all we can get.”

“How could I possibly say no?” Numair asked, his tone becoming mischievous as he found a matching gleam in Daine’s expression, “Though, Midwinter kisses aren’t considered lucky unless received at midnight on Midwinter’s Eve.”

“Kisses are always lucky,” she told him, a smile gracing her features though it didn’t reach her eyes.

Determined to lighten her mood, he tapped his chin in a show of contemplation, “That’s an interesting theory but I think some experimentation is required.”

Shaking her head, she raised herself onto her toe tips so she could loop her arms around his neck, “Just kiss me, silly man.”

Numair obliged, dipping his head so he could capture her lips with his own. The kiss was gentle and filled with the sadness that still consumed them both. Breaking the kiss, Numair rested his forehead on hers, “Is there any chance I can convince you to stay here?”

“I won’t let you go alone. Besides, I have to go to the pack. I owe them.”

The finality of Daine’s words, whispered with such conviction, made Numair's heart clench and resulted in a pained reply. “I had to ask.”

“I know because you’re the silliest man in the world.”

They separated and continued toward their room, each step weighed by the same fears. There was no telling how long it would be before they would see peace again.


	6. Power and Prejudice

“I’m just pointing out the rather intriguing fact that your birthday happens to fall on Imbolc. A holiday, mind you, only observed in the northern regions. Surely you are used to celebrating it.”

Daine shook her head at Numair’s thoughtful tone, “It’s still two weeks away. I don’t know why you’re worrying about it now.”

Numair’s grin died, becoming softly-serious, “Magelet, barrier or no, it’s your birthday.”

“Yeah, but it seems like a silly thing to fuss over. It just means I’m a year older. Not like it won't happen whether we mark it or not.”

Urging his Appaloosa gelding, Spots, closer to Daine’s shaggy grey pony, Numair brought Daine’s attention to his pleading expression, “Daine, the day you entered this world is worth celebrating. Please say you’ll allow me to at least get you a gift?”

“I’m not answering that,” she told him pertly and turned her attention to the road ahead.

Daine, who had remained strangely contemplative during the days it had taken them to reach the designated meeting place, lit up when a thinly muscled young man and a slight young woman appeared on the horizon.

Evin had all the natural light of the players that had raised him. It was not only visible in his sky-blue eyes and roguish smirk, but also in the way he held himself with confidence built from years of performance.

The effortlessly cheery woman who sat atop a roan gelding on Evin’s right had the near-daily battles with immortals written in her tired aqua eyes but the rest of her was songbird-like. Miri had always had a weightlessness to her posture that made her appear like she belonged in the clouds rather than on the ground.

Miri dismounted the same moment Daine did, the two young women crossing the distance to embrace each other with sister-like affection.

“I’m so glad you two are alright,” said Daine, “I was worried when we kept getting delayed.”

Miri pulled back to turn a skeptical face on her, “Us? I’ve seen the reports! You’re lucky you made it here!”

“It wasn’t that bad,” replied Daine, ducking her head when Numair passed her a glare. “Alright, it was fair bad but we’re here now.”

“Well, we’re glad you managed to make it,” said Evin with a grin that rained both affection and disappointment on Daine, “Come on, I’ll introduce you to the group then we can start for Dunlath. Gods only know what’s happening there while we’re standing around talking.”

“Right,” said Daine and she quickly swung back into her saddle.

Pulling their mounts around, Miri and Evin led Daine and Numair to their camp in a clearing back from the main road. It was a basic Rider camp, a small fire and a cluster of tethering stakes surrounded by riding tack and packs. Energetic ponies with short coats and thin faces pulled at their confines experimentally the moment Daine walked into sight, neighing in greeting to the young woman. She smiled brilliantly, dismounted, and moved into their ranks. With touches and whispered words, she made her acquaintance with every pony there.

Numair picked Kitten from her traveling pack and set her on the ground so she could stretch her muscles while Evin and Miri tied their still-saddled mounts in line with the others. Like many of the riders, Evin and Miri had started their rider training during Daine’s tenure as the Assistant Horse Mistress and knew well the connection Daine shared with the animals. They patiently waited for Daine to emerge from the herd, ready to greet the humans that worked in conjunction with her new friends.

Numair knew many of the Fifth’s Riders through his own time spent teaching them about how to protect themselves from gifted bandits and immortals. Merian was the eldest and was the group’s healer. When Evin called out to her, she waved in an ambivalent way before brushing her thick auburn braid off her shoulder and returning to applying some ointment to a wound on Wicket’s arm. When she was done, Wicket stretched in an exaggerated fashion and made a joke about his bum going to sleep. His many sea-themed tattoos spread with him, warping across his thick muscles and going taunt around his broad neck. Beside him, Yola made a remark concerning Wicket’s numb-skull, bringing a comical grimace to his heavily-jowled features and turning him into a clownish gargoyle. Yola’s deadpan delivery and the thin scar that ran down her left cheek made her smile seem more menacing than it otherwise would have been, but her golden eyes cast an affectionate light on Wicket. Putnam’s thin lips quirked up and bone-carved beads, set at the ends of randomly placed braids, caught on the loose strands of his shoulder-length brown hair when he bowed his head to stifle the chuckle that racked his broad shoulders.

“Eh! Daine! Why doncha come get some grub!” called Wicket in place of a proper greeting, waving her over with a large and callused hand. “We ain’t seen ya in an age!”

Daine grinned and took a tailor's seat within the circle of riders, as comfortable as one settling among siblings. Kitten sat beside her, anxiously scanning for the promised food. Wicket quickly passed her some bacon, which the little dragon chomped down in seconds.

“We could eat but we gotta make it quick. We’ve gotta get on the road ‘fore long.”

“Right-o,” said Putnam, “Summa us work for a livin’ Wick.”

“Yeh? Who carried yer arse out de shite when does bandits gotcha with an arrow in de thigh? Wundt our fearless leader, dat for damn sure!”

Evin stepped up to hover behind Yola, arms crossed in a player’s mockery of offense, “I had my hands full with those Spidren!”

“That’s a lame excuse!” said Miri, taking a seat between Daine and Putnam, “You can juggle!”

Seeing Daine so at home among the riders brought a smile to Numair’s face but also a sense of loneliness. Like so many others, the riders often regarded Numair as someone to be feared. Experience had made him wise to the fact that he could never find the same amount of camaraderie among the common-class soldier or rider that he had when around such large personalities as Alanna or George. Still, he could not begrudge Daine the easy acceptance she found with the riders. Instead, he retrieved one of his many books from his saddlebag and made his way toward a comfortable-looking spot against a large pine tree.

Daine’s voice cut through the warm sounds of the rider’s laughter, “Numair? Where are you going?”

All eyes turned on Numair as he stopped mid-stride to smile at Daine warmly. Lifting the brown leather book, he said, “I’m just going to read until we are ready to depart.”

“Don’t be silly,” she told him, “Come get somethin’ to eat.”

He waved away the note of concern in her voice and told her he wasn’t hungry before finding a seat and opening the book to a previously marked page. Yet the conversation around the rider’s fire made its way to Numair’s ears and he found himself listening out of some sense of morbid curiosity.

“He knows we don’t bite, right?” asked Putnam, his shelf-like and fuzzy brow furrowing.

Daine shrugged, “Prolly just got somethin’ on his mind. It’s a mage thing. Don’t take it personal.”

Putnam inched forward, his voice dropping with conspiracy, “I heard he once turned someone into a tree. Is that true?”

The smile Daine passed the young man was kind but held an undercurrent of sadness, “Yeah but he don’t like to talk about it.”

“Why is that?” asked Yola, her voice lacking Putnam’s inquisitiveness.

“He didn’t like doin’ it but he don’t regret it. It’s hard to understand.”

“It makes sense to me,” said Meridan in her monotonous way, “words of power can be dangerous if mishandled. Frankly, I would be concerned if he was not conflicted.”

Ducking her head to hide her expression, Daine said, “I s’pose that’s true.”

“If you all are done with the gossip, let’s eat so we can get on the road,” said Evin.

“Yes, Commander.”

***

Miri took a deep breath through her nostrils, “I can smell it already!”

Evin and Daine looked at each other with exaggerated boredom before Yola pointed out that Dunlath was still two-days ride away.

Miri put on an air of offense that was made laughable by her bright gaze, “It doesn’t matter! It smells wonderful! Just you wait, the baker in Dunlath is the best!”

“Yer a strange one, songbird,” said Wicket with a smirk.

“Oh, like you don’t get excited the moment at even a whiff of sea-brine!”

Daine scoffed at Miri’s remark, “I remember you near-fallin’ out the saddle last time we went to the coast.”

“Exactly!” Miri said mock-indignantly, “It’s the little things that make life worth living! Let me have my fun!”

“As if we could stop you,” said Merian in a perfect deadpan, setting it up so that Miri could take in another deep breath and unleash a riot of chuckles.

Numair was the only one in the group that did not share in the entertainment. He kept to himself, often remaining near the end of the train. It wasn’t that he didn’t engage with the others, just that he didn’t go out of his way to insert himself into the easy familiarity that the rider group shared. He didn’t try to pull Daine away either, content to watch her laugh.

“You’re in your thoughts a lot today.”

Numair blinked out of his thoughts, bringing himself back to the mortal world with a, “Hmmm? What was that, magelet?”

Daine chuckled, “Must be some problem if it’s twisted you’re head so.”

He rolled his eyes at her, “I wouldn’t call it a problem so much as a trifling notion.”

“You wanna tell me?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Which means you’re worried.”

Dropping his head, Numair eyed her sideways, stealthily gauging her reaction from beneath the black wool of his winter cloak, “It’s the barrier. I’ve been trying to determine a way to restore it but in all my readings I can’t find a way that doesn’t require a rather extreme amount of dark magic. Blood-spells and such. It’s rather frustrating.”

She scowled at him, not fooled for even a moment by his light tone, “I’m fair sure that you told me using those types of magic would hurt you.”

He grimaced, “It’s a good thing that such magics are painful to use. Otherwise, there would be nothing to deter evil mages from committing devastating atrocities. Still, it would be a small price to pay to stop the tide of chaos.”

“Numair-”

The sound of rending wood and the roar of some unknown beast ended their conversation before it could cascade into a full-scale argument.

There was no hesitation as the entire group raced ahead, coming upon a scene directly from some ancient myth. Held aloft by storm cloud colored bird wings, the silver dusted flying gorillas known as apeians hovered around a group of unsuspecting travelers. They dodged blind strikes from improvised weapons and viciously answered each impotent attack with fangs and finely-forged axes.

Daine’s gaze went distant as her magic permeated the area. It might have been pure absent-mindedness that had her speaking aloud but Numair suspected it was for the human’s benefit, “Stop! You don’t need to fight!”

All attention turned to Daine, wide human eyes lost in the sea of glowing red irises.

Numair knew wild magic would not help them in their fight when a snarling voice echoed in his mind like a gong in a small room, _You! You are the one the stormwing told us about — the mortal girl who uses our brethren like weapons. Like all other humans, you are a disease and must be purged._

All the apeians started toward Daine with deadly purpose. Moving to her side, Numair raised his palms. The slowly approaching apeians stopped in their tracks, eyeing the crackling black magic that separated them from their target. One of the brasher among them slammed a massive fist against the barrier and was thrown backward for the trouble. The other beasts watched the scene with sharply rational expressions that viewed the world with as much distance as a scholar, leaving their comrade to bleed in a mass of splinters.

The Riders attempted to use the distraction to their advantage, circling the apeians for a coordinated attack. It failed horribly. A slice down one of the beasts’ back earned Wicket a backhand. Sailing across the roadside clearing and into a tree, he landed in an unconscious heap. Merian leaped from her saddle to kneel at Wicket’s side and check him for injuries. Miri took one from the air with an arrow to the back while Evin drew a scythe-like K’miri blade. He sliced through thick fur, ripping the entrails from the apeian’s belly. Silver blood splattered across the area, soaking into Evin’s jerkin and showering across the faces of a woman and her daughter as they cowered before a large tree. The way she stared at Evin’s gore-streaked form was something Numair would see in his nightmares for a long time but not something he could allow himself to contemplate because, as one, the apeians turned their attention to the unshielded travelers and riders. They rushed for the ungifted humans with new savagery, baring silver teeth with the promise of death.

One look between them found Numair dropping the shield as Daine drew her bow. Her eyes sharpened on her first target and she loosed an arrow into hollow bone. The apeian tumbled from its lofty position like a brick dropped from a tall building, landing in the mud with a squelch. It pushed itself up on over large knuckles and continued toward its target with single-minded determination. A middle-aged man scrambled backward in desperate need to escape a brutish apeian until he was pinned against an overturned cart. Then, as if dunked into kerosene, the beast’s fur ignited in a wave of sparkling black fire. It screamed, flailing violently as Numair’s magefire consumed it.

Seeing the effect of the magefire, one of the travelers grew bold. He leaped forward brandishing a makeshift torch but the apeian he engaged was massive and intelligent. Silver magic emerged from its lips to douse the flame before the man could even come within a foot of it. Bereft of a weapon, the fool was left frozen as the beast’s fist shadowed him.

Shifting mid-dismount, Daine took wing in the shape of a sparrow and went for the apeian leader’s eyes with a beak that did not belong on such a small creature. The beast roared and a sizeable black palm made contact with her tiny avian body, sending her spiraling into a patch of oak brush.

Dismounting in a rush, that looked more like falling than any coordinated movement, Numair made to go after Daine but a sharp whistle stopped him in his tracks.

Dangerous and untamed magic tore through the area, washing over the scene like a tidal wave. Consumed by fire, all the apeians cried out in a vicious roar and took to the air only to become ash that rained down like volcanic fallout.

Numair turned wide eyes in the direction of the whistle just in time to see Kitten go pale. He managed to catch the dragonet before she fell from her perch on Cloud’s back.

“What were you thinking?” he asked her in a voice caught between a worried whisper and a harsh admonishment.

Kitten looked up at him through half-lidded amber eyes and managed a weak whistle. The white color of her scales slowly faded into a pale greenish-gold as she moved her heavy head to take in the scene around her.

The travelers, most unharmed due to the quick actions of the riders, stared blankly at the greying snow. The riders, on the other hand, had taken the brunt of the injuries. Merian’s eyes hardened into crystal as she crossed to where Putnam lay near the road. Miri was beside him, trying not to jar her painfully twisted ankle while cooling his scorched jerkin with handfuls of snow. When Merian pressed her hands to Putnam’s chest, a healthy peach tone slowly painted over blackened flesh. Every piece of skin healed cost Merian dearly. Sweat beaded on her brow and her ivory skin turned grey. After a moment, Miri stopped her with a soft murmur.

Yola sported a stripe of angry blisters across her left arm but she didn’t give any thought to the pain as she started retrieving fallen weapons from the battlefield. Wicket, on the other hand, remained ambivalent. He merely started gathering frightened ponies and tying them in a line, purposely ignoring the cuts and bruises that bloomed across his exposed skin.

With one spell Kitten had saved the travelers but it was the pain she had caused the riders that weighed heavily on her. She buried her head under her arm and made the sound that generally signified Daine, needing her mother’s comfort.

As if on cue, Evin appeared at Numair’s side with a silver-brown sparrow cupped in his hands. Numair’s dark eyes caught the firelight as they found the divot in her chest that shifted with each harsh breath.

“Between you and Kitten, I’m going to end up in an early grave,” he told Daine.

A chirp combined with sporadically shortening and normalizing feathers to translate into her stubborn voice, trying to tell Numair she would be alright.

“Stop trying to shift, you damned horrible liar,” he told her harshly albeit quietly, not wanting to raise his voice when Kitten felt so guilty, “At minimum, you’ve cracked three ribs. You are far from fine.”

A pained gasp stifled Daine's avian version of sardonic laughter. Still, her feathers settled back into their natural length.

“Can you help her?” Evin asked, his worry written on his features while his voice remained steady.

Numair’s answer came out strained, “She can’t shift with broken bones. We can stabilize her ribs but it might be some time before she can retake her human shape.”

“One of our women’s a witch,” said the middle-aged traveler Numair had saved, “Mayhaps she could help.”

Though the man had called her a woman, the waif he indicated barely qualified as such. The small fire of her evergreen magic marked her as nothing more than a hedgewitch, able to use herbs and some magic to heal common ailments or create charms. She and the younger man she stood beside weren’t much more than children, their thin features lost beneath the lines of a hard life.

Luckily, Numair didn’t immediately recognize the young man as the torch-wielder Daine had saved. Otherwise, he would have likely sent the fool straight to oblivion when he had the nerve to say, “Ain’t no way I’m lettin’ Biddie near ‘em. Dat girl’s not human and did ya see dat little monster wit ‘em? It-”

“She’s just as human as you are!” Numair hissed, his voice vibrating with barely-contained magic, “And this little DRAGON just saved all your damned lives!”

The young couple took unconscious steps backward, the waif ducking behind the young man for protection from the mage that could quickly destroy them with a whisper.

“I can’t,” the waif said in a mousey squeak, trying to save herself with a few words, “I wouldn’t know how ta heal a bird.”

“Don’t bother yourselves,” Evin spat harshly, as he joined the conversation with cold authority, “You all should get to the nearest village as quickly as you can before more of those things show up.”

“Are ye-” The older man tried to argue but Numair had reached his limit, flashing black eyes on the travelers.

“Go. We won’t save you a second time.”

The travelers didn’t need to hear anymore, snatching what little they could carry and hastening into the night toward the distant firelight of civilization.

Forgetting the travelers almost instantly, Evin looked down at Daine with sorrowful eyes, “You’re sure she’ll be alright? I mean, that hedgewitch had a good point, no one can heal her while she’s a bird. Right?”

Numair peered down at Daine with sudden insight, “Actually, I might be able to heal her but I’ll need to borrow her magic.”

“You can do that?” Evin asked, his eyebrows almost hitting his hairline.

“You think you can concentrate enough to let me try?” Numair asked Daine.

Even though it hurt her, Daine-the-sparrow nodded.

Nodding in return, Numair waved Evin toward one of the threadbare bedrolls the travelers had abandoned in their haste. Gingerly setting Kitten on the ground, Numair scooped Daine’s feathered body into his large palms and settled into a tailor’s seat. Kitten curled up next to him, a ball of contrite scales against his thigh. Numair closed his eyes and allowed himself to fall into another realm — one where his shadowy magic ruled supreme.

Pulling a tendril of gift from his very core, he sent it through his hands to mingle with Daine’s coppery wild magic. It seeped into her, making her glow with the sparkling bronze of their combined power. Letting her gift take the lead, he found her broken ribs and brought the magic to bear on the injury. Usually, his gift was too chaotic to be used for healing but when he let her instincts guide him, it became a benevolent tool.

Healing had been the first thing Daine had wanted to learn and Numair had taught her everything she had ever wanted to know about it. She put her heart into every animal she helped and would likely do so for humans if the nature of her magic would allow it. It was both beautiful and frightening. It was frightening in that he finally understood just what lengths she would go to for others, but it was beautiful because it was everything that made Daine who she was laid open before him. It was unnervingly visceral and yet Numair was almost reluctant to have it end.

Opening his eyes, he found a human sitting in his lap. He quickly pulled the cloak from his shoulders to drape it around Daine and obscure her naked form from view. For a moment they merely stared at each other, reveling in the new understanding they had formed at that moment.

Kitten broke through the intimacy by climbing into Daine’s arms, her head still drooping guiltily.

“What happened?” Daine asked Numair, her focus on Kitten as she tried to comfort the little dragon.

“She performed a very dangerous spell to stop the apeians from hurting anyone further,” Numair finally told Daine. His gaze falling on Kitten, he had to work hard to keep the fear from his voice. The fear he felt on her behalf. “Little one, please don’t ever do anything like that again. In fact, I would prefer if you didn’t use magic without permission from now.”

“It couldn’t have been that bad,” Daine said when Kitten let out a contrite sound of promise, defending the dragonet from what she believed was an unjust request.

“Look.” He led her with his line of sight, unsure of how to explain it without sounding harsh.

The riders had fallen into habits gained over months of training and weeks of combat, creating order out of the remnants of chaos. Evin had gone to Merian’s side, and his jaw clenched at the sound of Miri’s bones snapping back into place. Once she was healed, Evin asked if Merian had burn ointment among her supplies. “In my saddle bag. It is the one with the orange wax seal. Once you have taken care of the others, bring it here.”

Evin opened his mouth to ask why then his eyes widened and he visibly changed thoughts. “Gods! Your hands!”

“It’s minor, I promise,” Merian replied, snatching her hands away from Evin’s grasp, “Look to the others first.”

Miri caught Merian’s gaze, her young face aging before Numair’s eyes with a mix of residual pain and understanding. “Look to yourself. We need you.”

The ice that surrounded Merian instantly melted, softening her shoulders and leaving her looking like an orphaned child. It was a strange twist, seeing the ridged healer laid low by an uncharacteristically serious Miri. Yet the moment didn’t last. In the end, the riders were soldiers and a military mindset rarely lent itself to prolonged moments of plutonic affection.

Numair’s eyes moved away from the scene, capturing Daine’s, “In times like these, some people won’t see her as anything more than just another immortal. An enemy.”

Daine dropped her head, realization twisting her features into wounded insight, “Surely they know that Kitten would never hurt them on purpose. She was only trying to help.”

“I hope you’re right,” replied Numair, dropping his gaze as memories flitted across his features. Daine and Numair had lived through terrible moments of betrayal at the hands of such misconceptions.

With one shared look, they agreed they wouldn’t let Kitten face the same prejudice they had, even if it cost them the trust of those they considered friends. Still, that wasn’t the outcome either of them wanted, something Daine vocalized with a, “Me too.”


	7. In All Fairness

Following the fight with the apeians, the camaraderie that had filled the road with jokes and laughter had all but evaporated, leaving behind a tension that threatened to snap at every turn in the way. It was Miri that kept the pressures from driving them all to madness. Flitting between the ranks like a butterfly, she offered jokes and easy laughter that eventually broke through even Numair's careful distance.

Kitten, who had remained buried in her saddle bag for most of the journey, was even brought in on the fun as Miri bent over to speak to her in a player’s whisper, “Putnam looks like a poorly turned campfire ham, don't you think? We'd best get him a new jerkin soon. He's making me hungry!”

It was a joke that might have been in bad taste but, spoken in Miri’s sweet voice, it sent a wave of surprised laughter down through their ranks.

“Songbird,” said Wicket with a wide grin and a shake of his head, “You’re a treasure.”

Tilting her head, Miri smiled at him knowingly, “I am? Like pirate treasure?”

“Aye, Gods curse ye who tries ta steal ya!”

The resulting smiles lasted until trees gave way to buildings encased in parchment-colored plaster, and the chirping of winter birds turned into the giggles of children. As they entered Dunlath village, Evin ordered the others to replenish supplies while he, Daine, Numair, and Miri continued.

“We’d best head directly for the giant’s village,” said Daine, “So I can talk to Uma and see what there is to be done.”

“That’s gonna have to wait,” said Evin without enthusiasm, “We’re supposed to report to the Lord first-thing.”

“Of course, how could we possibly expect anything different?” Numair said amidst a heavy sigh and urged his gelding into a faster pace. Without any outward encouragement from her rider, Cloud trotted forward to catch up with him.

Numair purposely turned his attention to the scenery as they rode toward the castle, ignoring the way Daine tried to question him with her eyes. The streets were freshly cleaned of snow in honor of the approaching holiday and banners were being hung between the buildings as vendors built makeshift stands. Yet even the most colorful pennants couldn’t hide the blackened remains of destroyed homes. They stood like skeletons, a visible graveyard against the liveliness of the people.

The scene had become so commonplace Miri barely acknowledged it. With aqua eyes made blind by trying times, she regarded the decorations with confusion. “What is all this about? I mean, it can’t be the equinox already, time doesn’t go THAT fast!”

Daine shook her head, looking around at the ornaments with a strange shadow across her features, “It’s Imbolc. It’s when people pray for clouds so that the Badger God won’t see his shadow and the snows can begin to melt.”

“It’s also one of the Goddess’ days,” Numair said, his tone instructional, “Tomorrow, the common people will build crosses from straw and hang them from their doors so the Goddess will bring their family health in the coming year.”

“I’ve never heard of Imbolc before,” said Miri, taking in the preparations with sudden reverence. 

Evin smiled a player’s smile, “It is only usually celebrated in the northern lands. The southern folk don’t put much stock in whether or not a Badger sees its shadow. Reports say Lord Raster canceled the celebrations, not that folk seem to have listened.”

Numair scowled, “The lord is an idiot to try to stop them. Without faith, all hope is gone. The people have a right to find happiness wherever they can.”

“When you put it that way, it doesn’t seem so selfish,” Daine said quietly.

Numair’s head turned so fast it looked like he could have cricked his neck, frowning at the young woman who tried, unsuccessfully, to hide her guilty expression, “Selfish is the last word I would use to describe it.”

The group crested the final hill and a thin apple tree came into view. Its spindly branches were weighted with green and red ribbons rather than leaves, making it appear as just another decoration.

The air around the courtyard was stagnant, the chilly winter breeze stifled by the magic that still permeated the area. It pulled Numair out of his saddle, crossing the short distance to press long fingers to the bark. Closing his eyes, he could feel the man still trapped inside. His essence, his darkness, his intelligence; everything that was Tristan Staghorn all turned to wood.

“Numair?”

Daine’s voice forced his eyes open just in time to see Evin and Miri pass him one last curious look before disappearing into the stable.

Instead of immediately interrogating him, Daine lifted Kitten from her saddlebag, “Why don’t you go find some new rocks to add to your collection? I know you’ve been hordin’ them to play with since Numair said you can’t practice your spells on the road.” She eyed her grey pony, “Not that Cloud would EVER whinge on about it.”

Cloud huffed and stomped her hooves, apparently disagreeing with Daine’s statement. Yet, when Kitten ducked her head contritely, the pony softened. Nosing the dragonet, Cloud took charge of her care by urging her toward the empty training yard.

Alone with his magelet, Numair found himself saying, “It doesn’t seem right. The price for damning a man to eternal darkness should not be so...easy to pay.”

Numair had long-since dealt with the consequences of using a word of power so thoughtlessly, taking great care to guide the tree that had taken Tristan’s place as a man in the world. Still, he felt like he had yet to pay the final penance.

“What do you mean?” Daine asked him, tilting her head curiously.

Numair replied smoothly but there was a distance in his tone that was unsettling, “He’ll likely outlive us all, watching the world but not a part of it.”

“Seems fair to me,” Daine shrugged, “He would’ve killed dozens for no reason than to feel powerful.”

“Except I don’t hate him for all the pain he caused, but for trying to kill YOU. What does that say about my high and mighty morality?”

Framing Numair’s face with her palms and raising herself onto her tiptoes, Daine captured his gaze, “Nothin’ you should feel guilty for. You stopped him from doing a bad thing so the reasons don’t really matter at the end.”

“I wish I shared your practical outlook on the world.”

“It isn’t ‘practical’ it's just a fact.”

One corner of Numair’s mouth twitched upward in a sad smile, “I have the feeling this is one argument I am doomed to lose.”

“Then why are you still talkin’, silly man?” Daine smirked at him and, as if drawn down by an invisible rope, Numair pressed his lips to hers.

“Well, this is new but it explains more than it doesn’t.”

They broke apart so quickly it was damning. Daine blushed, but Miri waved away the heat in her cheeks with a grin, “I wondered what was taking so long but if I’d have known I’d find you two snogging, I might have taken some extra time feeding the mounts.”

“Right,” Evin said looking anywhere else but at Daine or Numair. It was fairly evident that he sincerely wished that he HAD taken the extra time.

As if she could hear his thoughts, Miri stepped into Evin’s peripheral vision, her expression near-to glowing with conspiracy. “Ummm, Master Numair? Would you, uh, come with me? We really should hurry up and speak to the Lord so we can get to the Giant’s Village before sundown.”

Raising an eyebrow, Numair glanced between Daine and Miri. He wasn’t convinced Miri’s plan was smart and hesitated to answer until Daine turned to him with a false smile, “Evin’s even less diplomatic than I am and it’s you the lord prolly wants to talk to anyways. Go ahead. We’ll meet you inside.”

Numair's wary nod was Miri’s clue to drag him toward the castle by the sleeve of his shirt but they did not get far. She quickly diverted their path, pulling him into a nook between a wall and a storage shed.

“Miri? What-”

“Shhhhh!” she pressed her index finger to her lips and pushed him back so that she could peek around the building, “I can’t hear!”

That was when a pair of voices drifted across the courtyard to settle on Numair like a boulder. He did not wish to hear the conversation between Evin and Daine; it was far too enlightening for comfort. Still, curiosity kept him from further protesting the immorality of eavesdropping.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Evin sighed.

“Like what?” Daine asked, only barely managing to displace the nervousness that underscored her teasing tone.

“You know what like,” Evin replied with more venom than necessary, tempering it with a sardonic laugh that was both warm and painful, “I mean, did I even stand a chance? You two have always been close.”

Daine’s reply spoke to how his words hurt, “Oh, stop actin’ like a wounded hound. It wasn’t like that.”

“What was it like, then?”

Sighing heavily, Daine said, “We just...understand each other in a way no one else does. Even if I had chosen you, he would have always been my best friend.”

Evin laughed, but it was a hysterical sound, “That makes sense. How strange is that? To think I might have been alright with things turning out that way.”

A long moment of silence was broken when Evin asked, “How long has this been going on?”

“It started in Carthak but I knew I loved him months before that. Shortly after we left Dunlath.”

“After?”

“Yes,” her voice turned wistfully factual, something only she could accomplish, “Though I can't say when exactly. It wasn’t any one moment. It's just that, as time went on, I realized I was always happy when he was around, even when things were bad.”

“Didn’t you feel that way about me too?”

“I thought I felt that- I mean, you always knew how to make me laugh. Then, at Beltane, when we were- you know- I, well- my mind was drifting pretty much anywhere else and I knew I wasn’t being fair to you.”

“Well, that’s a blow that isn’t likely to heal soon,” Evin joked but his tone made it fall flat.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “it wasn’t anything you did.”

“Stop trying to make me feel better, Daine. I don’t think my pride can take it.”

Despite his attempt as teasing, Daine became despondent, “I didn’t set out to hurt you. Back then or now.”

“I know,” something about the way Evin drew out the words made them ring with truth, “For whatever it’s worth, I’m glad you’ve found someone to make you happy. Even if that someone isn’t me.”

She returned the sentiment awkwardly, “Thanks.”

“I think that’s enough,” said Miri sadly before she gently grabbed Numair’s sleeve a second time and started dragging him toward the castle’s mahogany doors. A butler greeted them in the entryway, the same proud man who had once led Numair down to the same long hallway to meet Dunlath’s previous lord and lady. Lady Yolaine had been stripped of her lands and sentenced to death for treason. That is what happened to those consumed by greed, they often lost everything they had.

The new Lord of Dunlath did not even look up when the butler announced Miri and Numair, bracing one stocky arm against the ornate stone mantle and staring blankly into the flames. Long shadows hid most of the room in darkness, making even the walls seem malevolent, and painting his dirty-blonde with streaks of black.

Bowing formally, Numair said, “Lord Raster, King Jonathan sent us to assist in your battle against the ogres.”

Raster scoffed, “You’re too late, Master Numair. We have already decided upon a solution to our ogre problem.”

Miri furrowed her brow, “Forgive me mi’lord, but what do you mean ‘solution’?”

“I mean that we have found a satisfactory conclusion to the problem,” he replied in a voice that brought a whole new meaning to the word “pompous”.

Scowling, Miri leaned against the western wall, her arms and ankles crossed in a purposely relaxed stance. She kept her head bowed, peeking up at Numair with flashing eyes that warned him to take over the conversation before Dunlath ended up needing yet another lord in less than a decade.

“I believe that Rider Miri was not looking for a simple definition but was hoping you might explain what this proposed solution might be.”

The Lord finally turned his attention away from the fire to look at Numair, “As we speak, my soldiers are preparing to collapse the mines beneath the ogre’s camps. They’ll be destroyed in one deft move and my people can go back to living in peace.”

Numair had to stifle the urge to curse. Instead, he settled for clenching his jaw and saying, “Forgive me, my lord, but the giants settled in the mountains above the mines. Would evacuating them not alert the ogres of a trap?”

“No, because we are not evacuating the giants.”

“You can’t do that,” Miri said, her voice deceptively polite, “The king would never approve.”

“The King is charged with protecting these people,” the Lord replied absently, becoming once more hypnotized by the fire, “Just as I am. The death of the giants is an acceptable sacrifice. Not that I would expect a soft-hearted woman to understand. Or some bookish fool.”

Raster was extremely lucky that Daine and Evin walked in at that moment. Miri relaxed back against the wall, only glancing up to send Daine a silent warning. Not that she needed it. It was evident from the stiffness of Numair’s spine, and the lengthening shadows in the hall, that he was not happy.

Daine went to his side,  looking between Numair and Lord Raster in an attempt to understand the conversation.

“The giants ARE your people, milord,” said Miri, her voice light while her expression was dark, “The King named them allies under the protection of the crown.”

“The King had no legal right to offer them sanctuary in MY lands. Therefore I have no obligation to protect them,” the Lord said evenly, unaffected by the way Numair openly scowled at him.

Seeing the expression, Daine finally asked, “What going on?”

Gesturing in exasperation, Numair replied, “Our clever Lord Raster plans to collapse the mine shafts beneath the ogres’ camp, which might be a viable idea except that it would destroy the Giants’ village as well. Not that it seems to be a problem. What was the phrase you used, my lord? ‘Acceptable sacrifice’?”

Daine raised her chin and pinned the lord with a glare that should have set him on fire, “Have you lost your head? The Giants helped us! They saved the kingdom!”

The lord returned Daine’s ire with a sideways glance, “And who are you to speak to me so?”

Numair’s knuckles turned white as he opened his mouth to retort but Miri spoke before he could, “Milord, this is Veralidaine Sarrasri, a mage under the employ of His Majesty and Master Numair’s st- former student.”

“A girl with a mother’s name has no right to question me,” The lord’s gaze flicked away from the fire to measure Numair’s stance, “No matter how many powerful friends she has.”

“Speak plainly, my lord. I am in no mood for backhanded comments,” Numair hissed and wondered why the lord wasn’t a pile of ash, his gift’s reaction becoming nearly unbearable. Then he noticed the restraining hand Daine kept on his arm, tempering his power before it could manifest in deadly fashion. Unfortunately, the lord took pointed note of the way she soothed Numair with the slow motion of her thumb.

“Master Salmalin, I have little care for your ‘mood’. The short of it is that unless you brought an edict directly from the king expressly forbidding my action, I am within my rights to do as I see fit to defend my holdings. If the King wishes to put me on trial for doing what I believe is necessary, he will have to answer for his overreach of authority. Perhaps that would be best. In times such as these, the people need protectors strong enough not to fall to the whispers of bleeding hearts,” Raster purposely glanced down at Daine’s hand once more, “or tricks between the bedsheets.”

Daine snatched her hand away from Numair as if he had seared her skin, shaking it to rid herself of the sting. Without her touch, the room filled with crackling power and Numair’s voice vibrated with a combination of anger and magic. “You’ll retract those words, or you’ll regret them.”

To the Lord's credit, he stood firm in the face of the rage-fueled power. “Your threats ring hollow, Master Salmalin, given your rather colorful reputation at court, but I understand that the road was not kind to you or your former student. I will have separate rooms made available for you as foreign mages under the King’s employ, as is my duty.”

Numair took a step forward, dragging the darkness with him, but Daine quickly stepped into his path. Placing a hand square in the center of his chest, she started pushing him backward. Without taking her gaze from him, Daine spoke to the lord in a voice that dripped with poorly-concealed poison. “Thank you, milord, but we’ve got a place to stay. Come on, Numair.”

“As you wish,” said the lord before turning away from the mages and back to the fire.

If it had been anyone else standing between Numair and Raster, he would have paid dearly for his brazen words but Daine managed to force Numair to turn away and marched him from the hall. Miri and Evin followed in their wake, unsure whether or not the lord was lucky to be alive.


	8. Bad Air

As soon as the group stepped into the courtyard, the air stirred into small dust devils sending powdery white snow through the air like thrown flour. It was the only movement in the world, the rest trapped in a deep freeze.

Numair was lost in the stillness, unable to draw a breath as his untamed magic threatened to suffocate him. Daine tried to speak, to say something to break through his icy exterior but all she managed was a gasp. It was enough, ripping the shadowy magic from the air and bringing Numair back to himself. In response, hundreds of snowbirds took flight from the nearby tree as if frightened by a loud noise.

Once the world had settled back into normalcy, Numair shook the frost from his thoughts and focused on the young woman standing beside him. Numair’s shoulders bowed forward, his hands curling into white-knuckled fists at his sides.

“I’m sorry. I let my temper run away with me,” he said, his voice void of emotion.

Daine shrugged but the nonchalance rang false underneath a brow beaded with sweat. She had seen Numair’s power slip from his control but she had rarely seen him lash out. In fact, he could only think of one instance, when Ozorne had commented similarly about their relationship.

“At least you didn’t try to hit him,” she said sardonically, something that grated on his nerves.

Such blatant disrespect seemed to matter little to Daine, she was used to having her honor questioned by those who couldn't see past her bastard surname, but Numair could not let it pass. If only she saw herself the way he saw her, someone worthy of the utmost respect.

Eyeing her in his peripherals, he muttered, “That man owes you his blasted life.”

She didn’t hear him but Evin soon voiced something similar, “Though that ass would’ve deserved it.”

“Socking him would’ve just made matters worse,” said Miri, the voice of reason among a sea of rage, “but that’s not even the point. He’d kept to veiled comments about the Rider women and foreign mages until you and Daine walked in. Then it was as if someone’d let him off the line.”

Daine frowned and Numair felt her magic call out to the world around her. A few moments passed while she communed with whatever animal she was speaking to. Then she whispered, “Rochne.”

“What?” Numair asked and Daine blinked, her gaze sharpening on the world in front of her.

“Blueness, the castle tomcat, he says that ever since a mage arrived from Rochne, the lord has been acting strange.”

Evin’s expression matched Daine’s in its suspicion, “A mage?”

“The servants call him Master Usser.”

Numair’s curse was breathless and colorful.

“Is there any mage you don’t know?” Daine asked with exasperation, though it might have been a joke. It was difficult to determine whether she thought Numair’s reaction was funny or frightening, not that he could blame her.

Eyeing her wearily, he explained, “Many, and I haven’t actually met Master Usser. I only know of him through his daughter. Gissa.”

Daine gaped as her mind connected the dots far too quickly for comfort, “He thinks you killed her.”

“You mean you didn’t?” asked Evin, clearly shocked and passing Daine an accusatory look.

Evin had been patrolling with Daine and Numair in the aftermath of the Dunlath coupe. Numair could still see the dark woman’s chest cavity, the cavern of rotting flesh blackened around the edges by magefire. Daine had known Numair’s explanation as a lie the moment he’d spoken it but she had merely stood by and let his words stand in Evin’s ears. Once they were alone, she had coaxed the truth from him. Gissa had essentially committed suicide, fully expecting Numair to take the blame and assure her imprisoned father did not die for her supposed failures. Numair had never told anyone else the truth, leaving the lie to weigh on his shoulders. He might not have played an active part in Gissa’s death but he still carried the guilt of not being able to see her plot before it was too late.

“Depends on your point of view,” Numair replied, going overtly formal as his guilt overtook him, “but that’s hardly the matter at hand. We have more pressing concerns then Master Usser’s revenge.”

“Though that’s fair close to the top of the list,” said Daine, narrowing her eyes him.

“I can handle him,” he assured her but a note beneath the words trapped them between nonchalance and false-reassurance.

“I’ve got to agree with Daine on this one,” said Evin, “If he’s a mage than there’s a real possibility he and Raster could collapse the mines before we can stop them.”

“We can’t let that happen,” said Miri, marching toward the stables.

“Right,” agreed Daine, following in Miri’s wake with a new determination.

As Miri led her’s and Evin’s ponies from the stale, she said, “I’ll find the others and make camp near the Giant’s village. It might not do much but at least we’ll be in range to evacuate them if need be.”

“I’ll need to speak to the giants, make them understand what’s going on,” said Daine, continuing Miri’s train of thought as she, Spots and Cloud followed Miri out, “but after that, me, Numair, and Evin can head down to the mines and see what we can do to stop the Lord's plans,”

Evin smirked at the two young women as he took up his pony’s reins, “Seems like you’ve got it all figured out then.”

Rolling her eyes at him, Miri quipped, “You earning that commander badge yet?”

“A good commander knows when to listen to his subordinate's advice,” said Evin jokingly.

“And a clever man knows when it’s pointless to argue,” said Daine, pointing knowing eyes back at Numair just as he opened his mouth to comment.

His teeth clicked together as he cut off his argument and retreated into himself with a muttered, “I wasn’t going to argue,” which, in and of itself, was an argument.

Giving him a knowing look before turning away, she called out for Kitten who galloped over with Cloud in tow. She quickly scooped the dragonet into her saddlebag, mounted, and proceeded to lead them toward the giant’s village.

Evin, Diane, and Numair rode out of the courtyard with haste, the village passing by in a blur as they headed north toward the frigid mountain pass. Yet, as the road began its sharp incline into the deepest parts of the forest, Daine stopped. Her bow-shaped lips formed the name, “Brokefang,” past a broad grin and, upon hearing it, Numair lost his contemplative look in favor of a small smile. Both he and Daine immediately dismounted as a mass of furry bodies emerged from the treeline. The Dunlath wolf pack had found them.

The first to reach them was a female grey wolf with a brown stripe down her spine. She ran directly for Numair, tackling him into the snow and burying her snout in the mass of inky tendrils behind his head. Reaching up, he stroked the wolf’s shaggy fur, “Hello, Fleetfoot. I would ask if you missed me but the answer seems a little obvious.”

Backing away, Fleetfoot allowed him to recover from the sentimental attack. As he sat up, he brushed the snow from his arms with a comical grimace but it eventually cracked into an affectionate smile. “For what it’s worth, I missed you too.”

Fleetfoot let out a string of yips and playful growls that Daine translated from behind her hand as she chuckled, “She thinks you’ve gotten up to trouble since we were here last.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Numair said with a grin, which he turned on Daine. She smiled back and he felt the familiar skip of his heartbeat when she openly cast her affection on him.

Fleetfoot let out a half-hearted growl, nosing Numair. Daine answered aloud for Numair’s sake, “He’s just distracted.”

“That is very true,” he told the wolf, running a soothing hand through the thick fur around her neck. She snuggled into him, offering him comfort and welcoming him back into the pack.

As if summoned, the rest of the wolves appeared and a shaggy black and grey wolf known as Brokefang emerged from amongst them. He greeted Daine first, sniffing and licking her in the traditional show of welcome.

Something Numair couldn’t explain passed between Daine and the pack leader. His silver eyes immediately turned toward Numair with an understanding that didn’t belong in the eyes of a wolf. The mage bowed his head respectfully toward Brokefang and, unlike the mind-to-mind conversations Daine regularly engaged in, the assurances Numair communicated were felt rather than spoken. Brokefang nodded in a curt show of acceptance before moving to nose Numair in welcome.

Backing away to capture both his human pack-mates in his gaze, Brokefang said something that made Daine blush. Curiosity almost made Numair ask what the wolf has said but respect held his tongue.

One-by-one the rest of the wolves welcomed the two humans back into the pack as if they had only been gone days instead of years. A small chirp reminded them that Kitten was semi-patiently waiting to greet the wolves but when Daine made to retrieve her, Evin waved her off and set Kitten on the ground.

The wolves that had been nothing more than pups the last time they had been in Dunlath grouped around the dragonet, welcoming her with playful nudges and yips. Kitten brightened immediately, all the melancholy that had plagued her gone in an instant. Daine and Numair passed each other a relieved smile, glad to see their little dragon feeling better in the light of the wolves’ easy acceptance.

Once the greeting ceremony was complete, Daine set her focus on Brokefang once more, “Strange how?”

Daine’s frown at Brokefang’s answer had Numair clearing his throat dramatically, “Care to clue the rest of us into what’s going on?”

She quickly reiterated what Brokefang had said, “He says there is ‘bad air’ in the giant’s village. It frightened the wolves to the point that they fled into the forest.”

“That explains why they didn’t come to find us as soon as we entered the valley,” Numair remarked, “Still, we should investigate this ‘bad air’ it could be some type of dangerous magic that could pose an even more substantial threat than Lord Raster and his idiotic plans.”

Daine nodded and remounted, Numair and Evin quickly following suit. Kitten climbed onto Silly, riding him as if he were a pony. The shaggy young wolf still had a chunk missing from his ear from where he had bravely tried to protect Daine from a Stormwing attack.

The wolves took point on the road, leading the three humans and their mounts to the valley rim where the giants had built their village. 

Many of the houses were built from a combination of logs and a mortar-like mud, set into the natural steps of the mountain crags. The roofs were severely steeped to keep off the deep snows and stood taller than some castles, giving the inhabitants plenty of headroom. Across the wood, the giants had painted swirling patterns depicting fanciful scenes of endless grasslands and forests full of game.  A winding path was worn between the large houses, the newly fallen snow stamped with footprints so large that Daine could have laid in one. It had been a vibrant village, yet it was as silent as a crypt.

“Where are they?” Evin asked, searching the area with wide eyes.

Something in the air slid across Numair’s skin like oil, leaving behind a sense of dread.

“You feel it too,” Daine asked, reading his grimace, “Do you know what it is?”

He shook his head, “The area is saturated in magic but I can’t determine the source. It feels almost like a barrier but not as...solid. This isn’t mage magic.”

Lost in magical sensation and discussion they didn’t see Evin dismounting to approach a strange glimmer that danced in the air near the center of the village, drawn to it as if entranced. It was only Kitten’s warning whistle and Daine’s widening gaze that made Numair turn in time to see Evin thrown backward. He crashed against the wall of one of the houses, slumping to the ground in a heap of blood and smoke.

Daine dismounted and made to rush to him before Numair pulled her back. Stepping in front of her, he created a shield around the glimmer that crackled as the strange magic within began to shift into an oozing mass of jewel-toned shadow.

Keeping his gaze concentrated on his shield, Numair said, “I won’t be able to hold it long. You need to get Evin as far back as possible.”

“What about you?” she asked.

He smirked, “Well, I suppose I’ll have to figure out a way to destroy it without being obliterated. Won't I?”

“You better, you dolt,” she muttered as she ran forward to kneel before Evin. Looking him over as quickly as possible, she took in the molten skin across his arms and chest. The smell of magically-burned flesh was revolting but Daine paid it little heed as she looped her arms under Evin’s shoulders. Dragging him back, she barely made it to where the pack waited before the strange magic began to burn through Numair’s barrier as if it were nothing more than wood. There was only one thing to be done.

He whispered a word and felt the tear between the realms press on his inner-ear. It was nearly unbearable but it wasn’t anything he had not experienced before. With a pop, the pressure ceased and the magic was gone.

Daine was checking Evin’s pulse when Numair appeared at her side, a thin sheen of sweat on his brow.

“It’s gone?’ Daine asked almost rhetorically.

“Trapped in oblivion,” he told her, his attempt at even speech belied by the subtle gasp in his words, “It was damn-near sentient. If it had been anything more, I don’t know what I would have done with it. How’s Evin?”

“Alive but he’s badly burned. We need to get him to a healer fast before he goes into shock.”

“That’ll happen long before we reach a healer,” said Numair and pressed his long-fingered hand to Evin’s forehead. The young man planked and became wrapped in a sheath of sparkling shadow. “There. That should keep him stable until we get help. Though, we should get going as soon as possible.”

As if to drive his point home, the world began to shake beneath them. Moving quickly, Numair waved his hand and Evin’s frozen body levitated off the ground.

They both mounted and raced down into the valley with Evin and the wolves in tow. The shaking stopped the moment they left the village but didn’t dare slow until they came upon Miri and the other riders.

Miri took one look at Evin’s body and dismounted to go to his side. Hands hovering impotently over Evin’s burned chest, her wide eyes turned on Daine and Numair, “What happened?”

“He ran afoul of some very dangerous magic,” said Numair, speaking in an unnervingly academic way.

Merian floated toward Evin with a grace that should have been impossible, gliding across the snow-covered ground like a phantom. When she reached Evin's side, her icy gaze flicked to Numair.

“If you would, Master?”

Numair bowed his head and waved a hand, gently setting Evin on the ground and removing the sheath from him. The healer immediately set to work, taking one of Evin’s burned hands into her own with all the gentle decorum of a bee settling on a flower. Miri nodded at the scene, her face becoming a mask of calm as she turned back toward Daine and Numair.

“Is the village safe now?”

“Far from it, I wouldn’t suggest going there until I can determine what befell the giants,” said Numair.

“What do you mean?” asked Wicket.

“All of the giants have disappeared,” Numair replied before turning to Daine, “Do you think the wolves would help us search the area for any clues?”

The wolf stepped forward and Daine said, “Russet has the best nose and Fleetfoot is the fastest. They will go with us, the rest’ll stay with the riders.”

“I’ll go with you too,” said Miri but Daine shook her head.

“No, you all should go warn the smaller villages. This might not stop at just the giants.”

For a moment, Miri visibly argued with herself until Numair captured her gaze, “Miri, Sarge once said that you were the only Rider he could trust to keep a clear head no matter the situation. I’ve never known him to be wrong.”

That was all it took to make Miri let go of her selfish desires and turn toward the riders that waited for her command, “Putnum, Yola, ride a circuit around the valley, stop at every village and tell them to evacuate to Dunlath proper.”

Brokefang yipped at two of the young wolves.

“Tracker and Littlepaws will go with you,” Daine told Yola and Putnam who merely nodded and took off, leaving Miri, Merian, Evin, and Wicket behind.

Miri went to her pony, taking the reins with authority, “After Evin’s healed enough to be moved, we’ll go to the wolves’ den and make camp there. If they don’t mind, that is.”

Brokefang bowed to Miri with respect. Diane didn’t need to translate, so instead, she spoke advice, “The wolves know the area. Keep an eye on them and they’ll make sure you don’t run into any trouble.”

Nodding, Miri waved over Wicket and together they started building a makeshift litter.

Daine looked down at Kitten, who had dismounted from Silly’s back but kept her forepaw on the wolf’s scruff. It was evident that she was reluctant to leave Silly, a friend in an ever-increasingly harsh landscape. After a moment, Silly yipped and Kitten let out a small sound of appreciation, burying her snout in Silly’s fur.

“Will it be alright if Kitten stays with you?” Daine called to Miri.

She gave Daine a bored look, “Like you have to ask.”

“You think that’s a good idea?” asked Numair, keeping his voice low and his lips barely moving so no one else could understand his question or the implications around it.

“Silly will keep an eye on her and she needs a friend,” she replied just as quietly.

Though he didn’t like it, Numair nodded and knelt next to Kitten. Catching her attention, he said, “Be careful, little one, only use your magic if you need to and even then do it sparingly. Alright?”

Kitten nodded solemnly and Numair softened, running his palm down her spine. With his opposite hand, he created a small ball of magic, forming it into a ball between his fingers before holding it out to her.

“Can you whistle my name?”

Kitten let out a bouncing whistle that he suspected meant “Papa” and not “Numair”. The magic in Numair’s hand lit up and dimmed before he offered it to Kitten. “This is a speaking spell. You need only whistle to me and I’ll be able to hear you. Alright?”

Taking the ball of magic, Kitten jumped into Numair’s arms and buried her snout in his neck- the dragonet version of a hug. When they broke apart, Numair noticed the skin on his gloveless hands had started to go grey with exhaustion. Not that it mattered when Kitten looked so at ease, holding the solid magic to her chest like a favored toy.

With everything settled, Daine turned Cloud toward the northwest and Numair and Spots fell in at her left.

A memory forced its way to the forefront of Numair’s mind. The first time they had ridden for Dunlath over two years ago.

For a moment he wondered at the circular nature of life. The revolving of the seasons always came around like clockwork but bringing forth days that felt so different than those before, even when scenes from them played out the same. How could he have known then what the future might bring? How could he see what would arrive with the next sunrise?

“Numair? The daylight’s waning.”

“Right,” he told Daine and urged Spots into the edges of twilight.


	9. Imbolc

Russet led them in the hunt for the giants, keeping his keen nose to the ground as he followed winding trails through the snow-laden forest. The horses kept up without any urging from their riders. Not that they would have received any. Numair knew he needed rest, his body beginning to ache, but more than that there was a persistent buzzing beneath his skin that had not subsided since leaving the giant’s village. 

He could tell by the way Daine glanced at him every so often, that she knew something was wrong. Still, her silent concern grated on his nerves, leaving him fuming so that when she finally gathered the courage to ask if he was alright, he snapped, “Fine.”

Daine’s raised eyebrows quickly made him aware of the sharpness of his tone. Shaking his head in apology, he pleaded with her, “Forgive me, magelet.”

She cocked her head at him for a moment, watching him like a wary deer, “Is something wrong?”

“No, I’m just tired.”

She nodded as if the half-explanation made perfect sense, though it rang false in Numair’s ears, “You did use a lot of magic at the village, silly man that you are. Russet and I can keep scoutin’ while you and Fleetfoot head back to the den?”

He eyed her warily, “And leave you to end up like Evin? I think not.”

“Don’t be a dolt,” she told him, her chin rising, “How are you supposed to be of any use if you’re drained?”

“I’m fine, Daine. Shall we-”

“Oh stop. Here,” Daine held out her hand to him, offering him some of her power.

“I’m not sure that is such a good idea. What if we encounter the ogres?”

She smirked, “Then I’ll talk to them. Besides, I’m fair sure we’ll need you more if the lord decides to collapse the mines.”

Giving in to the logic she provided, he took her hand and the buzzing immediately ceased. Furrowing his brow, he slipped his hand from hers without taking any of her magic. The buzzing began again. “Hmmm, curious.”

“What is?”

He waved her away and took her hand, his thoughts too consumed with curiosity to explain. Drawing her magic into himself, the buzzing beneath his skin disappeared even after he had broken contact. “Very curious.”

“You ready to say what’s going on yet?” Daine joked but Numair remained completely serious.

“Something I cannot place has been irritating my magic since we left the giant’s village. As soon as I touched your hand, it stopped and with you power intermingling with mine it has ceased completely. It’s strange, that’s all.”

A howl, Russet’s sharp note, ended the conversation and brought all attention to the place where their red-brown pack-mate stood. Daine and Numair came down from their saddles, coming to stand on the edge of what looked like a human footprint but much larger. Russet stood in the center of it, filling it from tail to snout.

Seeing the sheer size, Daine might have been considered insane for saying, “It’s small.”

“A child perhaps?”

Daine’s eyes went distant and she frowned, “I don’t think so. I can feel the giants but something else too. Something I haven’t met before.”

Lifting a hand encased in black leather, Numair pulled on his long nose, “It could be the ogres. We should use caution.”

“Maybe but, if that’s the case, we’d best find the giants fast.”

Russet pointed his snout toward the last rays of sunlight, indicating the way. The two-leggers (Daine’s term, not Numair’s) didn’t bother getting back on their horses, following Russet through the deepening snows and toward a wall of stone.

Daine’s light feet barely made an impression in the snow while the drifts rose to the middle of Numair’s calves and made it difficult for him to keep pace despite his longer gait. Fleetfoot fell in beside him, swishing her tail against his thigh in a promise to remain by his side.

At the base of the mountain wall were largemouth mines made by giants to extract various precious gems from the deep earth. In front of the mines, the orange glow of a massive fire cast long shadows across the sparkling ground.

“UMA!” Daine called to one of the shadows, smiling.

Russet bounded toward a blue-skinned humanoid creature and twined around Uma’s thickly muscled calves like a cat, affectionately greeting the giant that had been a friend to the wolves.

“Wolf-girl-Daine!” Uma called, turning to grin at the approaching group before bending nearly in two to stroke Russet’s back with a gentleness that looked strange from her over-large hands.

“Where have y’all been?” asked Daine, “We went to the village to look for you but all we found was a strange magic that near-killed Evin.”

Uma’s full mouth turned down, thin lips becoming an exaggerated frown, “It hurt Weevo, too. Dat why giants left.”

“Is he alright?”

The giant pointed a chubby finger toward the forest where a lone stone had been set deep into the freshly fallen the snow. Daine let out a long and heavy breath that twisted in the cooling air like a morning mist, her grin dying. “I’m sorry, Uma.”

Uma nodded sadly, “He was good mate, always took care of the littles good and rubbed Uma’s arms after long days in mines. Deno been sad long time.”

“Who could blame him?” Daine said quietly, “No one should have to grow up without a da.”

Something like an invisible boulder fell on the young woman’s shoulders, the residual pain of her fatherlessness shadowing her features. Numair displaced the weight with a kind hand as his head bowed forward, sending escaped vines of inky hair into his black eyes, “I’m deeply sorry for your loss. If it’s any consolation, I banished the magic that caused his death. It can do no more harm to your or your brethren.”

“Uma wish you here sooner, stork-man. Maybe save Weevo.”

“I wish the same.”

Uma’s eyes widened like an ambushed deer and she searched around her long, bare feet, “Where dragon-little?”

“She’s fine. She is with the rest of the pack. I think she needed some time among friends her age,” Daine assured the giant but there was a note to her tone that sounded almost sad.

“Dat good to hear, no one else be sad. Uma and littles enough. Can giants go to village now? Mines warm but small.”

“That’s probably not the best idea just yet. The Lord of Dunlath has threatened to destroy the village to stop the Ogre attacks. In fact, it probably isn’t safe to remain in the mines either,” said Numair

“Why he do dat? Ogres not so bad,” said Uma, cliff-like brow furrowing in confusion.

“They attacked the village,” said Daine, just as confused as Uma.

The giant turned around and shouted into the cave, her deep voice echoing against the stone, “Ogre-chief-Inbow. Come speak to Uma-friends.”

From the cave a creature similar to Uma, but smaller and with far more exaggerated features emerged. It had grey-blue skin and bat-like ears that flicked against its misshapen head and brushed a headdress built from leaves, twigs, and bones. Its eyes were small and beady, half-hidden behind swollen-looking eyelids.

“Why you yell so loud?” asked the ogre chief Inbow gruffly.

“Uma-friends think ogres not good-people. Tell dem ogres good-people.”

“We good-people,” the ogre said, repeating Uma’s words without knowing why he was saying them.

“Then why did you attack the people in the village?” asked Daine, her words tempered like she was speaking to a child.

“Stormwing tell us that giant-cousins in danger. Show us pictures in the waters.”

“Giants make ogres understand,” continued Uma, “Bad-magic-men make Giants slaves but wolf-girl help us be free. Good-Mans give Giants home.”

“We be friends if Good-Man give us home too. We protect Giant-Cousins.”

Numair and Daine glanced at each other, fitting an entire conversation into a single expression as only mates could, “Did this stormwing have a name?”

“O-zon-horn?” said the ogre, trying to make his thick lips wrapped around the unfamiliar name.

“Ozorne,” The way Numair said the name spoke to the chill that seeped down his spine, “Just how much of this is his doing?”

“A fair bit, I think,” said Daine though with an equally dark tone. She turned her face toward a deep purple and starless sky, “For now, we’d best settle in for the night. Can we share your fire, Uma?”

The giant nodded vigorously, “It is Badger-Night! Wolf-girl and Stork-man make fires with giants and ogres to bring no shadows tomorrow.”

Inbow let out a celebratory howl, “YAAAAA! You make offers with us! Make happy thaw!”

Uma put a hand around her mouth, lowering her voice to something that barely qualified as a whisper, “Don’t drink Ogre-brew. It make giants and friends all sick.”

Inbow scowled, “Ogre-brew make merry!”

An argument ignited between the giant and the ogre as they returned to their fire where the others of their kind offered their opinions.

In their wake, Numair smiled at Daine, “Imbolc. A cause for celebration.”

“To remember what we’re fighting for,” she told him, moving to take his hand in hers.

Fleet-foot yipped her agreement and bounded off toward the trees, Russet in tow.

“Where are you going!” Daine called after the wolves and they stopped only long enough to convey their answer. They were going to find food.

Numair chuckled, “Happy hunting, you two.”

After watching the wolves disappear into the forest, Numair turned to Daine with a grin, “So, magelet. How would you like to celebrate? Your wish is my command tonight.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, “So if I said I wanted you to try some of that ogre-brew with me?”

He grimaced, “I would do it, though I would appreciate it if you did not go down that route.”

Laughing, she looked toward a group of giants playing tube and string instruments. The melody was fast-paced and bouncing.

“Would you dance with me?’ Daine suddenly asked.

Numair’s eyebrows rose slightly, “I thought you didn’t like dancing.”

She shrugged, “Well, I sure don’t like that fancy stepping that they do at court but dancing ‘round the fires is different. There ain’t no special moves to memorize or nothing; you just go with the music. Couples in Snowsdale used to do it but no one wanted to dance with me and I didn’t want to dance with any of them either. I’d like to try it though, with you.”

Bowing in a flamboyant, courtly fashion, he offered her his hand, “In that case, Miss Sarrasri, would you honor me with a dance?”

Daine placed her hand in his and he spun her into his embrace, keeping her so close they nearly created one being twirling in time to the sounds. At first, Numair fell into habits gained over a long career at court but Daine giggled and asked him to let her lead. He did so without protest and soon they were practically skipping around the fire. The giants joined them with a cheer, Daine and Numair becoming smaller shadows dodging the bigger ones.

It was impossible to know how long they danced but they eventually found themselves laughing breathlessly, the chorus of joyful sound echoing through the forest. She yanked him away from the fire and they fell onto a log, no cares for the snow that seeped into their clothes. Daine collapsed against Numair in a fit of giggles that shook her shoulders and painted her face in light. It was such a beautiful sight that Numair couldn’t stop himself from pressing his lips to hers. It was a quick kiss that shocked Daine with its abruptness but she soon recovered. Shifting positions, she eventually found a comfortable spot with her back against his chest. He looped his arms around her, pulling her as close as he could while maintaining the relaxed comfort of familiarity.

For a long time, they remained still, watching the flames of the largest fire with half-lidded eyes. Then Daine yawned- a body-deep compulsion that had Numair loosening his arms around her. “Now, don’t start that, magelet. We must await the sunrise and assure that the Badger-God doesn’t see his shadow.”

Daine chuckled, the sound made thick by the sleep that pulled at her, “Can you imagine? The Badger being afraid of a shadow? He’d probably huff and puff at us mortals for even thinkin’ it.”

“More than likely,” he replied, his mirth matching hers, “I suppose you win this one. If you’re tired than you should get some well-deserved rest.”

“Just me? I’m surprised you haven’t fallen into your bedroll yet.”

“I am determined to see the midnight-hour at least,” Numair replied with a huff, straightening his spine defiantly.

“What for? If you’re tired, you should sleep while you can.”

His voice dropped low, his head falling until he could speak directly in Daine’s ear, “So that I may wish you a happy birthday.”

“You are the silliest man in the world,” she told him, a half-grin pulling up one corner of her lethargic mouth.

“You bring it out in me.”

Daine’s laugh turned deep and breathy as she stifled another yawn, “You were silly long before you met me, I reckon.”

“I’ll have you know, I’ve never danced around a bonfire until now. I think that speaks well to your effect on my innate silliness.”

“Well then I’m glad for it,” she said, a hint of something more profound to her words.

“So am I,” Numair replied, pressing his lips to the crown of her head, “That said, if you plan to fall asleep I might need to give you your birthday present now.”

She groaned, “Numair, you shouldn’t-”

“Please don’t argue, magelet, at least not until I have the chance to explain.” Standing, Numair went to where they had left their things and returned a moment later, his long fingers closed around something.

Instead of sitting on the log beside Daine once more, he folded gracefully into a kneeling seat before her. He held out two small black stones, perfectly spherical and glowing with a shattering of copper light like fire frozen in ice.

Daine’s brow furrowed as she looked down at them, “What are they?”

He took her hand and turned it over so he could place one of the objects in her palm and close her fingers around it. A shyness overcame him as he answered her question, “A backup plan of sorts. I spelled them to work similar in fashion to a focus but with limited capabilities and therefore are far less powerful. I suppose that doesn’t make them like a focus at all but more like a-”

“Numair,” she said with a knowing smile that he returned in an almost admonished way.

“Right, anyways, I imbued yours with a spell that, should you ever need, you only need to speak the words ‘invenies alterum’ to transport yourself to wherever I am.”

Daine gaped at him, “Really?”

Ducking his head, he nodded.

Suddenly, she threw her arms around his neck. At first, he was surprised by the sudden show of affection but he soon recovered and wrapped his arms around her as well. She pulled back and kissed his cheek, “Thank you, Numair.”

He waved away her gratitude and watched with shining eyes as she attached it to the chain she wore around her neck. The round object settled beside her silver claw as if it belonged there. Numair took the second one and attached it to a chain around his left wrist.

“Does yours do something?” she asked him.

He shrugged, “It is just the other half of the spell but, in theory, it could work in reverse. I could use it to transport myself to wherever you are.”

“Good, you get into too much trouble without me,” she said and grabbed his hands, pulling him back to his seat beside her on the log.

There was a long but comfortable silence between them and, for a moment, it seemed like Daine had gone to sleep, the air filling with even breaths and the continued sounds of joy from the giants and ogres. Then she spoke, “This is nice. I think- I think I needed this little bit of happiness.”

“I wish this moment could last for the rest of our lives,” Numair said. His voice was quiet and filled with unbidden thickness.

Daine lifted her hand to rest over his, pressing it to her chest and dispelling his melancholy with a simple reply, “We can only do the best with what the gods give us.”

His arms tightened around her protectively and, at first, it made his agreement seem wrong. Then Daine let out a long breath, releasing both of their sadness in a cloud of warm fog. She and Numair somehow got closer after that, adjusting shoulders and legs until the only thing that stood between them was their clothes.


	10. The Songbird and The Commander

The morning came all too quickly. Laying in the bedroll they hadn’t shared since meeting the riders on the road, Numair was happy to have Daine in his arms once more. Unfortunately, it couldn’t last. 

Before long, Daine opened her eyes and stretched, “We’d best get to the rider’s camp. I wanna know how Evin’s doin’ and we should tell them we found the giants.”

Numair nodded reluctantly and got up. The giants were still asleep, scattered through the area like boulders. Though the ogres weren’t visible among them, Numair assumed they had slept in the mines. According to some of the conversations he had overheard during the night, the ogres did not take to the cold very well.

After Numair made them a quick breakfast and Daine saddled their mounts, they left the giants behind.

Following Fleetfoot and Russet to the pack’s den, they arrived just in time to see Miri trotting back into the rider’s camp. She pulled up at the half-fallen tree where the other rider’s ponies were tied. Frostfur, a shaggy grey beauty who had a dusting of white through her fur, stopped at the edge of the camp. Raising her nose into the air, she trotted off toward the nearby cave where the other wolves were sleeping with Kitten amongst them.

As Miri dismounted and looped her reins around a branch, Daine and Numair pulled in beside her. She greeted them with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Welcome back. Did you find anything?”

Numair nodded from atop his gelding, “We found the giants. They are taking refuge in a camp near the mines. Along with the ogres.”

Miri’s eyebrows shot up, “Really?”

“Really,” Daine replied, “The ogres were misinformed about the alliance between the giants and the Dunlath folk. Now that they know, they want to work out a deal too.”

“Wow,” Miri said as she started unsaddling and brushing her pony, “You two work fast. I s’pose we’ll have to take it to the Lord.”

“It might be better to appeal to the king directly. The lord is obviously not a tolerant man,” said Numair.

“Good point.”

Daine opened her mouth, likely to ask after Evin, but Wicket stood from his spot beside the fire. Yola and Putnam barely seemed to notice his movements, engrossed in the relaxing tasks of sharpening weapons and repairing tack respectively. “Y’all might wanna head for de Commander's tent.”

Miri’s heart leaped to her eyes, “Is he awake?”

Wicket's soldierly mask fell away into a knowing grin, not that he was ever one to maintain it for long, “Oh yeah, he is. Could hear him wakin’ from across the valley.”

“What do you mean?” Numair asked.

“De Ice-Queen wouldn’t let him leave de tent. He didn’t take kindly ta dat but even a dolt like me knows betta den argue wit a healer.”

Miri turned back to finish brushing her pony as quickly as possible but Wicket stopped her with a roguish smirk, “I got deez here mounts, songbird, ya three go see what all de ruckus was for.”

“Thanks, Wicket,” she said, offering him a smile, “I owe you one.”

“Ahh, ya don’t owe me shite. Doncha know I’d die fur ya?” he said with the hopeless arrogance of a man who was so used to being turned down by the fairer sex that he’d turned into an undiscerning flirt.

She lifted herself to her tiptoes to give him a friendly kiss him on the cheek, “I know you better than that, dolt. You’d throw me overboard to save your skin in a heartbeat.”

He shrugged nonchalantly and started uncinching her saddle, “Only ‘cause yer de betta swimmer but if ya tell anyone I said so, I’ll call ya a liar.”

Miri laughed and started for the tent, Daine and Numair struggling to keep pace with her hurried steps. It was evident that she was trying to keep her steps slow even though she wanted nothing more than to run. Numair couldn’t blame her. If it had been Daine in the tent, he would have run full-tilt.

In the end, they all found themselves trying not to laugh at the pure ridiculousness waiting for them. Evin’s wrists and feet were bound loosely while he and Merian were locked in a glaring contest that the commander was bound to lose. Evin and Merian turned their glares on Miri at the same time but Merian’s lasted only a heartbeat before hardening into an impassive mask. 

“Good, you are here. You can tell our fearless commander how ridiculous he is being,” she said as if she expected Miri to do precisely that. Instead, Miri shook her head and pulled her belt-knife from its sheath. When she cut the ties, Evin immediately sat up and started rubbing at his rope-burned wrists.

“He isn’t completely healed,” said Merian coldly as she watched the scene from over her raised nose, “He should be resting.”

Miri turned to the woman with a smile, “Don’t worry, he isn’t going anywhere.”

“Black God’s Gates, I’m not,” Evin injected but Miri pointedly ignored him.

“After we talk you can come back and tie him up again. Until then though, go get yourself something to eat.”

“WHAT?”

“I have already eaten,” said Merian, ignoring Evin’s outburst just as Miri did.

“Then take a walk, I don’t care what you do as long as you aren’t here for a while.”

Merian stood and floated from the tent, nose still firmly pointed toward the sky. Once she was gone, Evin tried to find his feet with all the grace a drunken sailor during a storm.

“I’m glad to see you’re alright,” said Miri, purposely placing herself between Evin and the exit while also refusing to stop him from stumbling around like the stubborn dolt he was, “You had me scared there for a moment.”

Chastised by the honesty in her worlds, Evin settled back into a seat atop his bedroll and looked to Numair, “I should have called you over the moment I saw that glimmer. Instead, I let it ensnare me like a damned fish.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Daine said easily.

“Yes,” Numair told him, “Even I had a hard time with it. I doubt anyone else would have been able to combat such strong magic.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better,” said Evin darkly and gestured toward the tent flaps, “And Merian doesn’t help. She’s been a damned shrew lately.”

“She’s just worried about everyone,” said Miri, “Times like these are hardest on healers.”

Evin let out a long breath but started once more for his saddle pack, chastised twice in a span of a moment but unwilling to forgive Merian for tying him down, “She’s worse than any healer I’ve ever met.”

“Come now, Evin,” said Daine, “If nothin’ else, Merian’s level-headed.”

He looked down, frowning at his fumbling fingers as he struggled to unlatch the buckle, “Daine, Master Numair, would you mind giving Miri and I a moment alone?”

The two mages glanced at each other and nodded as one, “As you wish but there is a lot to discuss.”

From outside the tent, Daine and Numair could still hear the conversation within. Not that it surprised either of them in the end.

“Is something wrong, Commander?” Miri asked.

There was a grimace in Evin’s words as he said, “Don’t call me that.”

Miri seemed more than a little shocked, “Why not? You’re a good commander.”

“Thanks but that isn’t why I don’t like it when you call me that.”

“Then why?”

“Because you’re my best friend. I don’t have to pretend with you. You’re the only one who calls me out on my bullshit. If I’m a good Commander, it’s because I’ve got you there to keep me honest.”

For a long moment, Miri was stunned into silence, and the rustling of cloth told the story of someone, most likely Evin, working their way out of their shirt and tugging on a fresh one.

When the rest of the sounds had ceased, Evin asked, “Can you really tell me you didn’t know that?”

“No,” Miri said quietly. The wet sounds of kissing followed quick footsteps. 

At the sound, Daine grinned at Numair and mouthed, “About time.”

Unfortunately, the moment couldn’t last as giant footsteps pounded through the forest prologued Uma bursting into the camp. The giant braced herself against her thighs and gasped, “Wolf-girl!” between labored breaths.

Daine rushed over to Uma, her eyes wide, “Uma? What’s wrong?”

“Ogre-friends! They won’t listen to giant-friends! They attacking big village!”

There was no evidence of Evin and Miri’s new-found affection as they started shouting commands to the Riders. Within mere moments, everyone was in the saddle and racing toward Dunlath Proper.

The riders and mages arrived to find chaos reigning supreme. Poorly outfitted soldiers were locked in combat with the ogres. The immortals’ exaggerated features were twisted into masks of blind rage and their skin tones were sickly green. The ogres smashed through flaming walls, sending soot-streaked villagers fleeing in terror. The soldiers tried to stop them with misshapen swords and wooden shields that offered little protection. Across the ground, pools of swirling dark magic writhed. Every shift brought a new wave of destruction from the ogres, as if the magic had them tied to puppet strings.

After Evin called the riders to help evacuate the civilians, things happened so quickly Numair could barely comprehend it all until Daine shouted, “STOP!”

The electricity of her magic filled the air the ogres seemed to come back to themselves. The massive creatures shook their heads and blinked slowly, looking at the world around them as if it made little sense.

Then the pools of magic screamed in fury and the world fell under a shadow as if something had eclipsed the sun behind the clouds. Like a shockwave through the village, rage blinded the ogres once more.

Quickly deducing the source of the Ogre’s behavior, Numair unleashed his power to race across the village in an attempt to tame the pools of shifting magic.

The moment the shadowy tendrils of his magic touched the air Numair felt something arrest him. Whatever it was, it was more potent than anything he had ever encountered. The same magic from the giant's village stoked his power, like flames fed by a slow breath, and drew him toward the castle courtyard. When he blinked, he found himself standing before the tree that had once been Tristan Staghorn. It dripped with shifting jewel-toned magic, the sludge-like tendrils twining through baren branches like ribbons. His nerves loosened, a feeling of serenity overcoming him as his ego grew. All he needed to do was forget his morality and give himself over to the foreign power. He reached out, willowy fingers brushing the rough bark.

Jewel-toned tentacles encircled Numair and the grey rays of dreary daylight were snuffed out like a candle flame. As the earth ceased quaking, silence surrounded him like a stifling blanket.

He quickly took in his new surroundings. Everything was dark but he could somehow see, as if he had the night vision of an owl. Rounded black walls held the swirling pattern of wood but, upon closer examination, had all the tactile qualities of stone. Above him was only endless darkness and the ground beneath his feet seemed to be a hardened version of the same, giving the impression that he was standing on air.

There was barely time for him to fully understand the situation before he realized he was not there alone. Daine rushed toward one of the black walls, pressing her hand against it until her skin turned white.

“No,” she whispered, her eyes rolling in her head like marbles as she frantically searched for an exit. She sprinted toward the opposite wall, only to slam full-tilt into unforgiving solidity. She collapsed in on herself, pressing into a tight ball while her fingernails clawed at her scalp. “No, no, no, no, no,” she repeated, over and over as tears started streaming down her face.

Falling to his knees before her, Numair framed her face in his hands, dislodging the fingers that threatened to tear the hair from her scalp.

“Daine? Daine! What’s wrong?”

In her expression, he found more fear than he could imagine. She took sharp breaths, gulping air as if she was starved for it. It was then that his slow mind put together all the pieces, creating a picture that echoed the emotions he had felt upon finding the prison cell Ozorne had once thrown her in.

Without putting much thought into what he was doing, he took both her hands in his. “Daine, look at me. Please.”

Something about his voice must have broken through to her because she met his gaze. Her vulnerability tore him to the bone, making him feel raw and exposed. It took all his will to harden his heart against it and focus on what needed to be done to save her.

He knew he would never see her again but that was a small price to pay to see her uncaged. To give her a chance at happiness even if he wasn't there to share it with her. A whispered word was all it took and Daine was gone, leaving him alone in the darkness.


	11. Hearts of Wood

Miri watched as the darkness draped around Numair and he let go of Daine’s hand. His expression went blank and he was pulled into the frozen battlefield as if being led by an invisible tether. Every step he took echoed through the area in a roar that emerged from the black pools.

Amidst the resuming battle, Daine was trapped in a stillness. Only her eyes moved, flicking between Miri, Evin, Kitten, Numair, the wolves, the ogres, and the soldiers within the span of a heartbeat. Taking the authority and the consequences onto herself, Miri cut through the chaos at a run to catch Daine by the shoulders and shake her until she blinked back into consciousness.

“You have to do something!” Miri yelled at her friend.

“I- I can’t. Numair- and something is- He is- my magic-” Her eyes went distant again and Miri had to shake her again to bring her back to herself.

“Then stop him! You’re the only one who can!” Miri didn’t pretend to know anything about magic, but she knew if anyone could bring Numair back from whatever it was that possessed him it was Daine.

One of the wolves was thrown across the distance, the white dusted beauty Miri had often patrolled with. Daine choked on a gasp, gripping her chest in pain, telling the story of the wolf’s death with her expression.

“DAINE!” Miri ordered one final time, “IF YOU WANT TO STOP THIS, GO!”

Daine nodded and Miri let her go, watching her run toward the courtyard before remounting her pony and diving into the fray of battle once more.

Miri was barely aware of anything from one heartbeat to the next as she fought alongside the poorly trained soldiers, her fierce family of riders, the intelligent wolves, and one incrementally paling dragonet who rode one of the wolves like a horse.

Finding Evin engaged in trying to distract an ogre that was throwing debris with abandon, Miri raced toward him. Taking a rope from her saddle, she tossed one end to Evin and, without discussion, they rode in opposite circles around the ogre’s legs. The immortal fell onto his face, becoming impaled on a broken rafter. Together, they escorted the civilians to the edge of the village but as they rode, Miri yelled to him over the increasing volume of the battle.

“You need to find Daine! You saw what she did, she could stop this!”

“I won’t leave you and the others alone in the fight,” he told her harshly but their conversation was interrupted by the roar of another ogre. It was rushing after them, forcing Evin and Miri to turn their mounts and block the civilian’s escape.

The ogres’ large hands and feet crushed anything in its way, leaving civilians caught in the middle of a battle they were unprepared to fight. There were far more than there should have been, most of them there on Miri’s orders.

Cursing, she took her bow from her back and aimed at the ogre’s eye. She hit the mark but it barely slowed the beast down.

“Damnit Evin, we’re going to all die if we don’t find a way to stop this and Daine’s our best chance! Go!”

Evin visibly argued with himself before letting out a frustrated string of curses. Pinning her with a fierce expression, he said, “You’d better stay alive, damnit,” before he turned his mount toward the courtyard.

In his wake, Miri forced her focus back on the battle.

A small child screamed for her mother, her curly blonde hair matted with mud. In an instant, Miri knew that the child’s mother would not be there to save her daughter. The same chinless facial features were frozen into agony beneath fallen rubble. An ogre, the same one who had smashed the walls that lay on the dead mother, trudged toward the little girl blindly.

A whistle turned the murderous ogre into stone mid-stride and Miri barely managed to pull the little girl from the shadow as the ogre fell, breaking into rubble against the ground.    
Three ogres fighting five soldiers moved into the street, bringing with them even more destruction.

“Wave walker help us,” Miri whispered as she saw the battle between the ogres and soldiers heading for them, entire buildings falling in the skirmish.

Miri’s pony nosed her and, thinking quickly, Miri asked the little girl, “Can you ride?”

The little girl looked up at her with terror but nodded. It turned out to be a useless question as a flaming cart was tossed carelessly into the only exit, trapping Miri, Kitten, the wolf, Miri’s pony, and the girl in a circle of falling debris.

Kitten chirped, commanding Miri’s attention. Though the dragonet couldn’t talk, a glance toward one large bolder told Miri the plan as if they were speaking mind-to-mind. Nodding in agreement, Miri scooped up the little girl and placed her in the saddle. Pressing the reins into her hands, Miri told her, “Ride for the forest and don’t stop until you reach the valley rim. Do you understand?”

“Don’t- don’t - don’t leave me,” the little girl stammered.

Miri cupped the little girl’s face, both commanding her attention as well as comforting her, “Be brave, little one. For all of us.”

Nodding once more, the little girl squeezed the reins in tiny, white-knuckled fists.

Plucking Kitten from the ground, Miri set her the little girl’s lap. Kitten protested in a slew of clicks and chirps. “Don’t argue. You have to make sure she gets out safely.”

Kitten reluctantly nodded and wrapped her tiny claws around the edges of the saddle. Stepping back, Miri slapped her pony’s flank and the pony dashed off. A whistle moved the bolder and allowed the pony to pass through the chaos unscathed, the wolf on its heels. Miri followed at a sprint but on the other side, the ogres and soldiers were cutting off the little girl’s and Kitten’s escape. 

Nocking an arrow, Miri sent out a prayer to the Wave Walker and loosed. It flew directly into the center ogre’s thigh. The immortal creature fell into the one beside him, creating a cascading effect that had both of them falling into the mostly destroyed hut nearby.

“GO!” Miri yelled to the girl and the pony leaped forward, easily navigating the chaos to escape into the forest. In its wake, Miri nocked a second arrow and sent it flying into the ogre that was left standing, distracting it from pursuing the pony. This angered the ogre who picked up a piece of debris and threw it at Miri. She tried to dodge the wooden beam but it caught her, sending her sailing backward into the flaming cart.

On the wings of destructive agony came a bone-deep chill that numbed Miri completely. An ogre trudged toward her and as it came to tower over her, she closed her eyes.

When she opened them again, a tall tree was reaching toward dark clouds. A single bird, a small mockingbird, flittered across Miri’s vision and settled on the branch directly above her.   


In a beautiful twitter, the mockingbird sang Miri to sleep.

***

Daine blinked against harsh light as she tried to comprehend what was happening around her. The air was chilled, brushing against her cheeks as it moved the thick clouds toward the mountains. It was the sensation of freedom, yet all feelings of relief that accompanied the realization were stopped dead when a peal of cold laughter echoed across the courtyard.

“I have to give him credit. He is the most powerful mage ever to live. Or rather, he WAS.”

The voice that spoke hit Daine like a battering ram, ripping the breath from her chest as memories made his head spin. She knew the man to be Tristan Staghorn even though a long beard grew from his chin and blonde hair fell in a sheet down to his waist. He still retained the same light and handsome features that hid the pure darkness underneath and still spoke with unearned arrogance.

Tristan reached out to touch the bark of a tall white elm that had once been an apple tree, the thin trunk shooting high into the sky. Fleetfoot had curled around its base, her eyes closed and a soft whine emerging from deep in her chest, but when Tristan’s fingertips came within range, her deep growl had him backing away.

Once he had recovered enough to realize Fleetfoot would not move away from the tree to attack him, Tristan smiled maniacally, “How sweet, but you don’t realize I’ve done him a favor? Now he can spend an eternity lost in contemplation. It’s a dream come true for your lanky friend. Maybe in a hundred years, he’ll finally have learned the secrets of the universe. Too bad he won’t be able to share them with anyone but the birds.”

He turned to cast his glare on Daine, “You, on the other hand. You were better off staying in there with him. Now I’ll have to find a new way to make you pay.” Chartreuse magic danced across Tristan’s hands, “My apologies but this is going to hurt. A lot.”

A ball of fire flew right for Daine but before she could react the magic fell against a wall of crackling amber.

“I thought I raised you better than to attack those who cannot defend themselves.”

Daine and Tristan turned toward the deep voice of a dark-skinned man. He was haggard but the set of his shoulders whispered to his strength. In many ways he was Tristan’s opposite, the air around him whispering of a power Tristan could never claim.

“Usser,” Tristan choked on a laugh, “I thought you’d be dead by now.”

“Unlike you, I learned a great deal from my imprisonment, like not to rush my revenge, to only strike once all the pieces have fallen into place.”

Suddenly, jewel-toned magic seeped from the ground to slowly climb up Tristan’s legs like a mass of hungry snakes.

Tristan stared in disbelief at Usser, “What- what are you doing?”

“Chaos gives nothing for free. Her hunger is insatiable.”

Tristan cried out as the magic slowly consumed him, the roar of mixed pain and hatred echoing against empty stone walls to reverberate through the world. Once the jewel-toned magic had engulfed him, it slowly melted back onto the stones to form a pool of swirling colors. 

As if hypnotized, Daine leaned toward the swirling puddle. It called to a deep part of her, the part that yearned to be genuinely free. It was visceral and feral, it knew no sadness or fear. It only knew the hunt.

Something yanked her backward and she stumbled into Usser, nearly sending them both to the ground. Regaining her balance, she found him smiling at her in an almost paternal way. “Careful, girl. Chaos does terrible things to people like us.”

“What do you mean?” Daine asked but Usser shook his head.

“I’m sure you’ll learn eventually but, until then, just take my word for it.”

He stepped away from her, his silver eyes turning to stone as they fell upon the white elm, “He got less than what he deserved for killing my daughter, but at least he did the right thing in the end. Even if it meant he could never be with you again.”

Daine’s gaze followed his and she stepped forward to brush her fingers against the bark. Eyes clenching shut in haunting pain, she whispered, “He didn’t kill Gissa. She wanted to die 'stead of hurtin' people, so she used Numair to do it. He’s been living with the guilt ever since. He don’t deserve to keep paying for the choice she made.”

Usser moved to stand beside her, placing his hand beside hers on the bark and closing his eyes, “You might be right but that doesn’t change anything. It’s not something I would expect you to understand.” His hand fell away, pointedly refusing to reverse the spell.

A shadow of fell over them but it wasn’t until a regal voice said, “This was not how this was supposed to end,” that Usser let out a long sigh and looked up.

A stormwing looked down at her with a false smile. One moment she was looking into the cold green eyes of the Emperor, in the next, the memories melted away and she saw the subtle scars that marked his once flawless skin. Auburn dreadlocks, tipped in jade, told the story of the man who had once ruled without challenge but had since clawed his way out of the filth. Razor-sharp feathers clicked as he settled into his perch on a high branch and silver talons dug deep into the soft wood.

Numair had been right. Ozorne wasn’t a villain, a man of unexplainable evil. No, he was an evil she knew well. He was vengeance incarnate.

Daine moved like she was possessed. Finding her bow and quiver, she ran for it, sliding to the ground on her knees and turning a notched arrow on Ozorne. Much to her surprise, neither man seemed to notice her movements. Their gazes were locked on each other in absolute hatred.

“You have broken our deal,” Ozorne said darkly, “and I do not take kindly to those who try to steal from me.”

“Your opinion on the matter means little, you can’t reverse the spell without me,” Usser said and before anyone knew what he was doing, he purposely walked into the puddle of evil magic. It rose up to envelope him, stealing him away from the world amidst a peal of dark laughter.

“What a fool,” said Ozorne. For a moment, he looked at the swirling puddle with respect but, when the magic gurgled, his expression became carefully stoic in an instant. "I have not forgotten our deal but you do not command me until I have what was promised."

The pool hissed like a frightened cat before dissolving into the ground.

Once the magic was gone, Ozorne turned his gaze on the tree. A grin twisted his features into a menacing mask but, when he spoke, his voice bounced with something close to laughter. With the tip of his wing, he gouged a deep mark into the tree’s trunk. “Simply being trapped in a tree is too good for you, old friend.”

Daine loosed her drawn arrow, her concentration broken by the need to protect Numair from the wrath in Ozorne’s words. The bolt shattered against a crimson shield, splintering and falling to the stones.

Ozorne’s suddenly gentle tone belied the way his narrowed gaze fell on her, sending a shiver down her spine, “That was unkind, Veralidaine. Especially when I am prepared to help you free him.”

“Why would you do that?” Daine asked but her voice trembled with a mingling of hope and fear.

Ozorne seemed to take sadistic glee in her discomfort, “You are the blade that will hurt him most. The thing that will finally make him show his true colors.”

Daine’s fingers clenched around her bow, her knuckles going white, “I won’t help you hurt him.”

Shrugging, Ozorne took a particular pleasure in digging his claws further into the tree branch, “We both know you would gladly give your life for his. Unless you are so afraid of being imprisoned that you would rather leave him in there,” he scoffed, “No, my dear Veralidaine, you are a lot of things but you are not a coward.

“Now listen closely. Only the mage who spoke the original word of power can reverse it. Normally that would be a problem considering the original speaker is the one trapped. Usser might have been able to fix it but he was determined to make sure I did not get what I want. Thankfully, he did not know you as I do. You are in a unique position because you are connected to him in a way no one else could be. If you want to free him, you need only use the spell he gave you.”

“How did you know about that?” she hissed and Ozorne simply chuckled.

“I have a talent for keeping my enemies close. Good luck, Veralidaine.”

She blinked and Ozorne was gone as if blown away by the suddenly harsh wind.

In his wake, she dropped her bow to the ground and stepped forward to touch the tree once more.

“Numair,” she said his name like a wish, tears making her voice meek but just as they began to spill down her cheeks, she cursed, “You damned idiot! Why would you leave me with no choice but to hurt you! I should leave you in there! I swear, you’d best find a way to fix this or I’m gonna be right cross!” Consumed by a thousand raging emotions, Daine ripped her necklace from her neck, holding three talismans up to reflect the grey sky. Wrapping her fingers around the small black orb, she spoke two words as if they were poison, “Invenies alterum.”

The world tilted on its axis and Daine was gone, a silver oak standing where the elm had been.


	12. The Stillness At The End Of Oblivion

At first, the walls seemed to close in on Daine but then she heard a familiar voice and all her fears were banished by sheer relief.

“Daine?”

She crossed the darkness that wasn’t real darkness to jump into his arms and pressed her lips to his, immediately overcome by that blaze of desire that made her logical thoughts float away. He held her close, giving into the feeling of having her with him again.

Unfortunately, Numair was never one to let his thoughts go for long. She tried to stop his argument by refusing to break their kiss but he kept trying to speak past her lips, “Daine, wait, damnit, Daine!”

Pulling back, she rolled her eyes at him, “Is talking REALLY what you want to do right now?”   
He closed his eyes for a moment, his lips moving in a voiceless argument with himself. Ultimately, and reluctantly, he held her at arm’s length so he could pin her with a glare, “What are you doing here?”

She smiled, “This is where you are.”

His arms fell to his sides, “Daine, you shouldn’t have-” 

She pressed her finger his lips to cut off the argument and give herself an opening to speak, “I need you to answer a question. Then everything will make sense.” When he raised an eyebrow in question, she took that as his agreement. Taking his hands into hers, she asked, “How did you send me out of here?”

His puzzlement was hilarious, his brow furrowing as he tried to determine her plan, “All spells can be reversed by the original caster using the prefix ‘desi-’. Words of power are no different, though one should never use a word of power with the intention that it can be reversed completely. There are always consequences. Usually by displacing the spell in a cata-”

“Numair?”

He blinked, coming out of his explanation to find her grinning at him, “Yes?”

“You’re a dolt.”

“Am I?” he asked, legitimately confused by her laughing tone.

“Yep.”

It wasn’t until she smirked that it finally dawned on him what she was doing. Through their joined hands, she drew on his gift but it was too late by the time he thought to pull his hands from hers.

She spoke the word of power with the desi prefix and stars exploded behind her eyes. Once she blinked them away, she found herself lost in the darkness. Numair was gone and she was alone. Without him there, the dark walls seemed to disappear altogether and she felt like she was drowning.

Then she heard the echoing of his voice. “DAMNIT DAINE!”

There was a pop, like pressure being released from a preserves jar, and Daine felt free air dance through her hair. She blinked the blur from her eyes and focused on Numair standing before her just in time to see the eyes roll back in his head.

She could barely form a panicked version of his name before the screams of a thousand voices tore through her mind and forced her to her knees. Then, as one they simply ceased, leaving her in a state of lingering suspension.

It wasn’t tension that held everything still in the wake of Numair’s collapse, the opposite in fact. It was like all the fight had gone out of the world, leaving behind only peace. Within its grasp, Daine was left to wonder at it like an unsolvable puzzle. 

Finally, she was able to come back to herself long enough to realize someone was speaking to her. It was Evin, his worried blue eyes close enough to her own that the rest of the world was obscured.

“Daine! Talk to me! Are you alright?” Evin asked, the words rushed.

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly before searching the area, “What happened?”

Evin let go of her wrists and sat back, revealing the distant horizon. Clouds drifted past snowy peaks, allowing bits of blue to peek through in patches. The storm was breaking up over the mountains to leave the village in peace. “I don’t know. Numair was a tree, then he wasn’t and you were, I think, then you weren’t anymore and Numair passed out, then you started screaming- Can you stop the ogres? We’re getting decimated back there and Miri-”

That was when all the stillness and pain made sense to her. “They’re trees. I don’t know how but, they aren’t fighting anymore.”

Evin’s shoulders fell in relief, “Thank the gods.”

“Numair?” Renewed panic made her frantically search for him among the increasingly blurring world.

“He’s breathing. I don’t know if that means much,” said Evin as he gestured to his left.

Following the direction Evin indicated, Daine found Numair laying an arm’s reach away with Fleetfoot curled up beside him. The wolf’s head was resting on his chest, and Daine might have thought they had just fallen asleep that way if it wasn’t for the fact that Numair was in such as skewed position. He looked like a doll casually tossed to the ground.

With a trembling hand, Daine reached out to touch Numair’s and was relieved to find that he was warm. With that, she was able to take in his appearance piece-by-piece. His skin was pale, far too pale considering his usually dark coloring, and there was a streak of grey at his temple that made him seem older than his twenty-some-odd years would suggest.

“He’ll be alright. He just drained himself,” Daine said but the note of guilt in her voice betrayed her.

“What DID happen?” Evin asked.

“I’m not sure I can even explain it,” she told him and shifted into a tailor’s seat so that the gravel was no longer digging into her knees, “and I don’t think I could try when my head hurts so much already.”

“You might want to look at your hands for the cause of that,” Evin said, averting his gaze. She did and found blood on her nails.

“You were damn-near to pulling your hair out before I stopped you.”

“The ogres were screaming at me. I don’t know.”

Their conversation ended with the sound of heavy footsteps and they both looked toward the gate.

A procession of soldiers and riders entered the courtyard. Many were wounded, carried toward the castle by their only slightly less injured comrades. Yola had Putnam’s arm slung over her shoulders, helping him as he limped toward the castle, his knee twisted painfully. A soldier at the lead was missing his left arm, the wound healed over. The soldier walking beside the armless one carried Merian. Her pale skin was grey and for a moment Daine feared the worst until she saw the healer blink, the ice in her irises becoming a thawing stream that cascaded from the corner of her eyes. Seeing all the injured, Daine could understand why.

At the back was Wicket. Kitten walked by his side, her head drooping as if it had become too heavy. The ordinarily jovial man moved stiltedly, carrying a slight body in his thickly muscled arms. Both he and the body were covered in blood.

Recognizing the thin female shape, Evin jolted to his feet and rushed forward only to become a statue in Wicket’s path.

Daine followed him slowly, her mind unable to comprehend the truth until she could see the unblinking aqua eyes that stared up at the dark clouds blankly. Something had pierced the young woman’s golden heart, leaving it open to the harshness of the cold world.

“I’m sorry, Commander,” Wicket said, his voice thick with the tears that streamed down his cheeks, “The little dragon found her after all the ogres were turned into trees. By then there was nothing we could do.”

With a trembling hand, Evin reached out and pulled the lids down over Miri’s eyes. That way she almost looked asleep, that she might wake up with a bright smile to greet the world in her chirping voice.

Instead, Miri would share the same destiny as so many other riders, becoming part of the land she had fought to protect with only a mound to mark her place in death.

“May the gods grant her peace,” murmured a voice Daine didn’t recognize.

Closing his eyes against the pain, Evin angrily croaked, “Fuck the gods.”

It might have been his obvious pain that caused him to say such a blasphemous thing but Daine knew that he meant it.

“Evin-” Daine tried to comfort him with a hand on his shoulder but he tore away from her violently. With infinite gentleness, he lifted Miri’s body from Wicket’s arms and carried her away from the castle. Where he was going, Daine couldn’t even begin to guess, but nobody dared follow.

Some things were best left alone.


	13. Promises Reforged

Numair found himself standing on the mucky shores of a night-darkened Zekoi River, the Graveyard Hag standing beside him as she had so many times before. This time was different, this time her demeanor stifled the rising tide of his exasperation. 

The Hag's grey braids and ebony beads lacked the glow they usually held and the lines on her face seemed more profound, making the goddess' bowed back and walking stick seem more legitimate than they often did. She gazed out at the inky waters with empty eyes, her naturally rambunctious energy gone. 

“Ask your question, Arram,” The Hag said, her voice void of it’s mocking tone, “I figure I owe you. I am the one who dragged you into this after all.”

Looking to his feet, Numair asked his question, “What game are we playing?”

“You’re my favorite mortal. I’ve lived for centuries and yet you can still surprise me,” The Hag replied with a proud smirk that never reached her beady eyes, “Do you know of the Yamani game Go?”

“A game of territories,” Numair said amongst a sigh.

The goddess cut her eyes at him, “You’d make a good god, just imagine what your mind could do with the knowledge we possess.”

Numair sneered at the thought, “Being a god sounds extremely boring. I think I’ll remain a lowly mortal if you please.”

The goddess cackled in her usual way, her shoulders rising slightly, “I knew I kept you alive for a reason. For raising my spirits, I will answer the question you actually want to ask.”

“You’ll answer honestly?” he asked incredulously, fully expecting her to decline.

Instead, she bowed her head in consent.

“How do I protect Daine?”

“You can’t,” the goddess answered simply, “She’s going to be hurt one way or another but if YOU want to get out of this alive, you have to stop trying to be her shield. It’s her trail to make, good or bad, and only she can tell you where it will end.”

Numair closed his eyes, “I don’t like the sound of that.”

For the first time since Numair had met the goddess, she appeared genuinely sympathetic, reaching over to pat him on the cheek, “I know, my clever boy. I am sorry for putting you in this place but it was the best way to start the game.”

“If I can have faith in one thing, it’s that you will always sway the game in your favor,” he told her, managing a shaky smirk.

The goddess grinned in return, revealing the entire array of her gapped teeth, “Just like I have faith that you won’t listen. You’ll keep trying to protect that girl no matter what.”

“I’m sure you’re betting on it,” Numair replied, only partially sarcastic.

The Hag shrugged but there was a strange glassiness to her eyes, “The odds are good but I can’t bring myself to place the wager.”

Numair furrowed his brow and she smacked him on the shin with her walking stick but it wasn’t meant to hurt, “For once in your life, don’t overthink it! Just allow an old woman her eccentricities!"

He opened his mouth to retort but he never got the chance as Carthak disappeared and he fell into the darkness of deep sleep.

***

The sensations that came with the first traces of consciousness were the snapping of burning wood followed by the sweet smell of pine smoke, after that came the feeling of something warm beside him. Absently reaching out, he found his fingers buried in the thick fur of a wolf.

“She hasn’t left your side,” he heard Daine say and forced his eyes open. All he was met with was the shadowed dark grey of a stone ceiling. “I thought it might be best to stay with the wolves until you woke up. Kit was sleeping here anyways and Evin didn’t seem to want us around. Not that I can blame him.”

Numair tried to sit up but he soon found out how terrible an idea that was when he was forced back down by the pain that shot through his limbs.

“What do you think you’re doing!” Daine nearly yelled at him, setting her hand on his chest as her face came into view.

Smirking, he defaulted to comedy in the light of her worried expression, “Fighting with gravity. It has won in this instance but I’m sure I will defeat it eventually.”

She sat back, passing him an expression that was half-laughter and half-angry before she reached for something outside his view. A moment later she was lifting his head and pressing a canteen to his lips.

“Drink,” Daine told him and he did, immediately recognizing the ash-like taste of a pain-numbing tea. It made his stomach roll but he made herself swallow it, finding its warmth spreading through his body to bring him peace.

Once he had finished the tea, he watched as one emotion after another flicked across her face- starting with sympathy and ending with guilt. Underneath it all was a tiredness that made her look older, far older than she should.

He reached up to let his fingers brush across her cheek, “What happened?”

“A lot,” Daine said quietly.

“Are you alright?”

She chuckled darkly, “You worry too much.”

“Only about you, my magelet,” he replied with a sad smile.

Though her reply was quiet, it was filled with admonishment, “I wish you wouldn’t. Then you do silly things like try to stay trapped in a tree. Tell me you won’t ever do something that doltish again.”

His hand dropped in a sigh, “I can’t.”

Daine spoke her response like a curse, “I knew you'd say that.”

Numair pushed himself into a seated position, waving away Daine’s helping hands and steadfastly refusing to show evidence of the dizziness that shot through him. 

Positioning himself like a pawn on a chessboard, he caught her gaze in an iron grip, “The barrier is gone, we both know this is only the start. I won’t make a promise I can’t keep.”

“And what about our promise to always be there for each other? How do you expect to keep that promise if you’re dead?”

He turned his head away, unable to answer in anything other than a lie despite the way the truth darkened his features.

Daine let out a long sigh, the anger going out of her like a dying sail. “It was a silly promise to make in the first place. We can't always be there for each other, it ain't possible, never was. One of us is gonna die tryin'.”

“Don’t talk like that,” he said, his facade fracturing incrementally as her practicality slowly tore away all the noble thoughts that twisted through his mind, “What sense is there in talking about something so-”

“Likely?” she finished for him, her chin rising stubbornly.

Clenching his fists, he murmured to the ground, “Please don’t think like that. Thinking that way is a slow form of suicide and I-.”

“And you’d know that better than anybody, right?”

She watched him as he silently argued with himself. He wanted to deny it, to do anything except tell her, “True,” but that would have gone against everything he felt for her. He loved her and, more than anything, that meant she deserved the truth.

“We can’t keep going on like this. Not when we're better off working together,” she told him softly, taking the sting out of her words, “Carthak should've taught us that. If we don’t trust each other, everything goes to chaos.”

Numair tried to hide a wince by bowing his head, “You always were a quick learner. Far quicker than me.”

Fiddling with the badger claw around her neck, she looked toward the cave mouth with a sad smile, “I don't know about all that but I think we both know how to solve this. We'd best let go of our promises. Before they tear us apart.”

Numair shook his head, "No, we need something more than that because I’m not going to stop trying to protect you, Daine. I can’t, not when everything is so-”

“Mad?”

“Right.”

She took his hand into hers, “Then how about we make a different promise? To keep living, keep fighting and find peace again.”

His head shot up and Daine became lost in the sparkling darkness of his eyes. The profoundly emotional expression Numair wore, one she had never seen before, burrowed deep into her chest and took root in her heart. He raised their joined hands to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles, “Veralidaine Sarrasri, I swear to find peace with you.”

“And I swear to find peace with you.” The words were spoken so easily that they took on a whole new meaning. It was an oath, a cage that she was choosing for herself. It was not a promise that could be broken and, in some ways, it was terrifying. Yet she could feel that same fear in Numair, in the way his hands trembled within hers, and that meant they could navigate it together.

Possessed by the power of new understanding, their lips met in a kiss that started with intimate tenderness before slowly transforming into something more profound and searing. Their magics rose to melt together, just as it always seemed to whenever they became lost in one another. The tingling sensation of electrifying power eventually brought them back to themselves and they pulled apart to grin foolishly.

"You should get some rest," Numair told her, carefully untangling his long fingers from her mussed curls, “You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

“I haven’t,” she admitted sheepishly, “You had me fair worried there for a while.”

“Well, I’m fine now so get some sleep.” 

“Alright.”   



	14. Black and White

Numair and Daine kept close to one another during the journey to the coast. With each day new lines were drawn, leaving Evin with one foot on the side of the Riders and the other on the side of the mages. It was a position he could not navigate as every new sunrise brought with it the reminder of everything he had lost.

Numair couldn’t blame the young man for being devastated by Miri’s death but watching him was like looking into a potential future. It was like the pieces of Evin that were warm-hearted and kind had disappeared, making him into nothing more than stone.

The tension finally reached a breaking point two-days ride from the border of Naxen proper when Daine pulled Cloud to a stop, staring into the distance with empty eyes. Kitten poked her head from her saddlebag and chirped sharply.

A curse whispered beneath Numair’s long exhale as he reined his gelding back to her side, “What is it?”

“A herd of KILLER unicorns,” Daine breathed then met his gaze, “and a unicorn. She needs help. She’s sick.”

Nodding, the mage turned his mount toward the growing drum of hooves. Evin stoically followed suit, falling into rank at Daine’s left. The other riders did the same but made no move toward their weapons.

A pearly steed with a single silver horn growing from its forehead was the first to emerge. The whites of its eyes were visible as it tore through the trees, an entire herd of black brethren hot on its heels. 

The killer unicorns’ obsidian-like horns swirled with silver magic and their red eyes were alight with sadistic glee. One of them caught up to the white unicorn, sinking fanged teeth into its neck. Before anyone else could react, Daine raised her bow. The attacking killer unicorn was sent under the steel hooves of its herd by an arrow to the knee, giving the white unicorn a chance to escape in the gap between Daine and Numair.

Numair reached across the distance and, without any need to speak his plans, Daine took his hand. With the combination of their magic, he only had to whisper a single word and all of the killer unicorns fell mid-stride. At first, they appeared dead, but the mist rising from their nostrils in soft clouds showed that the beasts had only been put to sleep.

The riders gasped, turning disbelieving eyes on the mage. Numair purposely ignored them, turning his attention to Daine as she dismounted to approach the injured white unicorn. The mythical beast panted in pain; its hide dyed grey with lather and dirt. Silvery blood flowed from the wound on its neck, pooling on the ground in a sterling puddle that reflected the grey sky like a mirror.

“It’s alright,” she said, speaking in a gentle tone and offering her palms in surrender. The unicorn reluctantly bowed her head and moved forward.

Placing her hand on the unicorn’s long nose, Daine closed her eyes and the tear in its neck began to knit together. Numair watched the progress while shifting his weight from one stirrup to the other. His hands repeatedly clenched and unclenched around his reins but he visibly relaxed when a raised scar finally stood in place of the unicorn's wound. Daine opened her eyes and Numair dismounted to venture a step forward. Spooked by the power that radiated from him like heat from a stove, the healed unicorn bolted for the safety of the forest.

Seeing the way her gaze remained half-lidded, Numair made to touch her shoulder but a sideways glare arrested his hand in mid-air. “Don’t you even think of it.”

“Must you be so stubborn, magelet?” he grumbled sheepishly, letting his hand fall back to his side.

“I'm not being stubborn. Drained, I can still use my bow, so you need the magic more than I do,” she said and tried to set him at ease by kissing him on the cheek before moving toward her pony.

He was hardly convinced though, pointing a bored expression at her back as he followed her, “That sounds very practical but how are you supposed to use your bow when you can barely keep your eyes open, nevertheless ride?”

“I’m a better rider asleep then you are fully awake and I think poor Spots has put up with enough this journey,” replied Daine and swung herself into the saddle.

Muttering under his breath, Numair reluctantly followed suit.

They urged their mounts down the road but when the other riders made no move to follow, Daine and Numair stopped. He passed the hesitant group a friendly smile. “We should move out. Those unicorns won’t remain asleep forever.”

“We should kill them,” called Yola.

Numair didn’t miss the way Daine winced and placed a calming hand on the dragon, pinning the woman who dared to speak with a dark glare. “I don’t believe that’s necessary. After all, why kill a creature that cannot help it’s nature any more than the sun can help rising in the east? They only hunt their white brethren and only attack humans to defend themselves.” Turning a knowing look on Evin, he said, “The decision is ultimately yours but, if you are going to order the creatures executed, I will consider it a personal favor if you would wait until Daine and I have moved out of range. We do not wish to be privy to the deaths of otherwise innocent creatures.”

Evin nodded to the mage before turning a glare on his subordinates, “There’s no need, Master Numair. Move out!”

“No, Commander,” said Wicket, his head bowed even as his voice filled with frustration, “We ain’t goin’ nowhere til dem unicorns are taken care of.” He turned a sad look on Daine and Numair, “Sorry but I ain’t gonna let ‘em go an’ attack folk.”

“They won’t,” Daine argued in a meek voice, “They wouldn’t have come at us at all if I hadn’t told the unicorn I’d help.”

“You’d have us be friends with these monsters!” said Yola angrily, “MONSTERS that HURT people!”

“What do you know of monsters?” Numair asked with strained patience, “The REAL monsters of this world aren’t immortals. They are people without conscience.”

“I winnit go dat far.”

A ruby-eyed man stepped from the shadows like he was created from them. Tall and sculpted from thickly corded muscle, his straight blonde hair was pulled back from his chiseled face and into a loose bun at the top of his head. At first glance, he looked like any other man from the far north. From the look on Numair’s face, he knew him as well and named him, “Inar Hadensra.”

“I’ve been wantin’ ta meet de famed Black Mage on a level battlefield,” said Inar, his voice vibrating with untamed power as he turned a smile on Daine that was both friendly and devious, “Sorry, sweetlin’, but dat meant gettin’ ya outta de picture. I promise it wasn’t nothin’ personal.”

Daine reached for her bow and it fumbled from weak fingers. It fell into the snow and she dizzily followed it down. Numair caught her with his magic, gently setting her on the ground before dismounting and going to her side. Sweat beaded on her brow and she hissed through clenched teeth. Her shivering arms tried to push her upright, “I’ll be alright.”

“I’m ‘fraid ya won’t youngin’. A friend o’ yers told me ‘bout Unicorn Fever. Ya see, it only infects dose wit Wild Magic.”

Rage washed over Numair as he straightened to his full height, his power cloaking him in shadow, “You have no idea of the mistake you have made.” Visible bronze fire gathered in his hands, “Evin, get everyone out of here. If it’s a fight Inar wants, I’ll gladly give it to him, but if you and the others don’t get clear, I can’t vouch for your safety.”

Inar scoffed, looking up at the riders who made no moves to help, “Yer a fool. They betrayed ya.”  His eyes fell on Merian, who’s hands clenched around her reins, “but dat won’t stop ya from tryin’ ta save ‘em, will it?”

Numair's eyes narrowed on Inar, "Go, Commander. While you still have the chance. I don't want any more of your people's lives on my conscience."

“You always were sickeningly moral.” In a flash of steel, a stormwing emerged from the darkness to hover near the treeline. The human part was a lightly tanned torso, a mass of thin braids, and a pair of piercing emerald eyes. The rest was all monster, from his shining steel-feathered wings to his silver talons. 

Ozorne smiled menacingly, “Your heart will always make you weak, Arram.”

At Ozorne’s back, dozens of stormwings descended from the trees to attack the riders. The others immediately grabbed weapons but Numair could do nothing to help him as red magic shatter against his bronze shield.

Inar smiled, “Dis is gonna be fun.”

An arrow flew across the small clearing only to disintegrate in the air around Inar. Numair turned toward the source and found Daine nocking a second arrow.

“I won’t let you fight alone,” she told him in shivering determination.

“Ya got spirit, I’ll give ya dat,” said Inar, blue eye flicking toward Numair with something like understanding, “I’d rather keep dis ‘tween us though.”

Nodding, Numair went to Daine. Her drawn bow shook in her usually strong arms but, despite her stubborn ferocity, rebellious limbs refused to cooperate. Numair caught her just as her knees buckled and her bow fell from her grip. Trying to regain her footing, she pushed him away but he refused to let her go.

Closing his eyes in what could only be described as intense regret Numair whispered, “Forgive me, magelet,” before speaking the same spell he had used on the killer unicorns.

Daine let out an impotent, “No,” as she fell unconscious. Closing his eyes against his guilt, he laid her on the ground with a tenderness that spoke to just how much he cared about her. Something Ozorne would never know. Love.

Dismounting, Merian crossed the battlefield to kneel on Daine’s other side. Numair looked up at her in surprise and she spoke simple words imbued with so much meaning that it was as if they had been ripped from her heart to escape from her lips and turn her eyes into reflective pools. “I will take care of her.”

His eyes softened with understanding, then immediately hardened into pieces of jagged obsidian. Standing, he cast a secure shield around Merian and Daine before sending his rage-fueled power at the ruby-eyed mage. It shattered Inar’s shield as if it were nothing more than glass.

A grin formed on the evil mage’s lips and he threw an earth-splitting spell at Numair. With a wave, the taller mage used a counter-spell to stop the crack at his toes. Numair returned the attack with a blast of pure power that swept through the area. Stormwings were sent sailing backward, most crashing painfully into trees. 

As if unleashed, copper magic rose from Daine to fill the air and she cried out in agony. In the wake of such a gut-wrenching sound, Numair’s attention was pulled from Inar just long enough for the ruby-eyed mage to shatter his shield. He recovered but the next blast of power he threw at Inar was far weaker, not because Numair was weakening but because his heart was no longer with the battle. It was with the girl that cried out behind him. 

Inar frowned at the breeze-like power that fell against his renewed shield. “Dis ain’t what I was promised,” his one blue eye went to Daine and he sighed heavily, “'Til we meet 'gain, Black Mage.” There was a flash of red light and an albatross flew into the sky. 

Ozorne screamed in betrayal, swooping down toward Daine. Bronze fire enveloped him, sending him crashing to the ground wrapped in a net of bright gold. The stormwing screeched loudly, its gaze flashing with pure hate as it turned on Numair. The mage’s fingers twitched imperceptibly and the stormwing smiled with something like hope but, just as Numair might have given in to his darker impulses, he spread his fingers and the stormwing was freed. 

Flapping its razor-sharp wings, the stormwing ascended into the sky amidst a cackling laugh. Numair sent a blast of magic after him but it rebounded off crackling crimson magic. Those stormwings left alive after the short battle were called into the sky, forming a steel-feathered barrier around their leader’s escape.

Numair didn’t bother commenting on Inar’s strange behavior as he fell to his knees beside Daine’s sweat-dampened and delirious form. He reached out to touch her but snatched his hand back as even his proximity seemed to make her power rise and she hissed sharply.

Merian stared at Numair for a long time, taking in the pure agony in his features. Then, with a determined twist to her lips, she took Daine’s hand into hers and let her magic flow into Daine uninhibited. There was a silver cage threaded with black around the white light of Daine’s essence that threatened to destroy her but Merian’s icy power burned the fatal magic away, taking everything she was and feeding it to the blaze. 

Numair’s long fingers encircled Merian’s wrists, “Stop. You’re draining yourself. You have to stop.”

Merian looked up at him, the corner of her mouth lifting in a smile, “I pay for my mistakes. It was the only lesson my father ever taught me.”

Slowly, she turned to dust before his eyes as her magic drained her dry.  Her goal was accomplished. Daine had fallen into a deep sleep, the previous agony gone along with the cage around her essence.

The stillness following Merian’s self-sacrifice was broken when Yola yelled, “NO! No one else should have to die because of you freaks!”   
  
The woman rushed toward Numair brandishing a boot knife murderously. Wicket caught her from behind, trying to stop her but she was so driven by hate that she turned the knife on him. The blade sliced through his upper arm and he was forced to let her go to stem the bleeding. There was a croaking whistle and the knife flew through the air to embed itself in the trunk of a wide tree. Evin caught Yola’s arms, arresting her long enough for Wicket to recover and rush forward to pull her wrists behind her back. They forced her to her knees as Putnam brought a length of rope to bind her.   
  
Putnam and Wicket dragged Yola away, leaving Numair to fix his gaze on the ice-blue dust that settled against the snow.   
  
“I think it would be best if we went to the coast. Alone,” said Evin, his voice purposely flat. Numair hadn’t even noticed the young man standing beside him, watching the dust as it was carried away by the chilling breeze.   
  
Numair nodded, “I know it doesn’t mean much, but I’m sorry.”   
  
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Evin said quietly, “She made her choices. We all did.”   
  
The mage glanced up at the young man, surprised to find him scowling at the ground. Before Numair could ask what he meant, Evin walked away.


	15. The Peace In Between

Alone with Daine in their tent, Numair retrieved the book he had abandoned when her fever spiked. The text on Wild Magic, given to him by the Graveyard Hag, had fallen open to a random page detailing immortals’ effect on wild mages. Every space on the page was filled with scribbled notes and hastily drawn diagrams, all of them describing the dangers of unicorn fever.   
  
Kitten hadn’t left Daine’s side since the Riders had left, curled into Daine as if proximity alone could heal her. Knowing that he could not intrude on the dragonet’s need for comfort, Numair looked elsewhere. He hadn’t so much as glanced at the book-turned-journal since his return from Carthak but, sitting beside Daine’s sweat-drenched and writhing form, he turned to it as a source of optimism.   
  
Near the center of the book was an image of Daine rendered in inky lines. She had a fierce expression on her face but it wasn’t the face he had come to know so intimately. Gone was the youthful curves, replaced with the subtle lines of middle age. It was only the perpetually stubborn line of her jaw, her bow-shaped mouth, and her wolf-like eyes that marked her as the same person he loved so much it hurt.   
  
Coming so close to losing her, Numair hoped that whoever had rendered her so exactly had personally seen this wild woman of the future, that she wasn’t just an imagining. 

His heart didn’t care that she had been his student or that a ten-year age difference sat between them; it was determined to know her future as well as it knew her present.   
  
To his horror, the drawing disappeared and in its place was a shifting mass of swirling jewel-tones. It called to him, tugging at his innate curiosity and that deeply buried part of him that wished to be free from the confines of morality. To know what it was like to be genuinely free.   
  
Gold light bloomed across the page and it burst into flame. The tainted pages let out a high-pitched whine and struggled against the heat like an ant under sunlight focused through a lens. Numair banished the fire with his magic and watched in frozen awe as the book dissolved into nothing and the lawless magic evaporated into the stagnant tent air like smoke.    
  
A voice like a thousand hissing snakes slithered through his mind. If you really love her, let her go.   
  
Daine gasped and his head shot up.   
  
She was blinking rapidly at the canvas ceiling as if she expected the scenery to change each time she reopened her eyes.    
  
With a tentative hand, he reached out to brush the damp hair from her neck. Her temperature was still high. As soon as he touched her, his shadowy gift drifted toward her and was met halfway by the sluggish tendrils of her wild magic. The powers entwined like lovers meeting after a long separation, making Numair’s skin turn into gooseflesh as the familiar electricity danced across him.   
  
Reveling in the ability to touch her again, he brushed his lips against her temple. Her skin was blissfully cool beneath his lips.   
  
“Numair?” she asked thickly, a line of confusion forming between her sleepy eyes.   
  
He stifled a sigh of relief, “How do you feel?”   
  
She grimaced, “Like I’m being stabbed with a bunch of sewing needles.”   
  
The magnetic energy of their dancing magics drew him like a star to a gravity well until he was laying beside her. Disturbed by the shifting, Kitten moved in between them and curled into a ball. Like many times before, Daine and Numair’s combined magics settled across them like a blanket. A family, held safe by a power neither of them could fully comprehend.   
  
Daine let out a contented sigh, “That helps.”   
  
“I’m glad,” he murmured, “you had me scared.”   
  
A weak hand reached up, her fingers brushing the skin beneath his eyes and then drifting to the stripe of white at his temple, “That’s why you keep doing doltish things.”   
  
“And I won’t stop,” he whispered contritely, “I already told you that.”   
  
“But you’ll keep your promise,” she said matter-of-factly before averting her gaze, “That’s why I’m forgiving you. What was it anyway?”   
  
“Unicorn fever. Apparently, it is only transmutable to wild mages. I don’t know how I could have overlooked such a critical piece of information.”   
  
“You can’t know everything,” she said, half-joking and half-chiding.   
  
“I’m very aware of how little I know but that’s hardly the point, Daine. You could have died,” he bowed his head, “Others did die.”   
  
“Who?” Daine asked, her voice betraying the fact that she did not want to know but had to anyways.   
  
“Merian.”   
  
Daine closed her eyes and rested her forehead against his, “I hate this. When is it gonna end?”   
  
“I don’t know. I wish I did.”   
  
“All we can do is keep fighting,” she said sadly, “and hope for peace soon.”   
  
“I’m looking forward to it,” he brushed his fingers through her hair.   
  
“Until then we have this,” she brushed her fingertips down his chin to trail down his neck, “these small bits of peace. Right?”   
  
“Always, magelet.”


End file.
